


One Thousand Midnights or More

by JudeAraya



Series: One Thousand Midnights or More [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Depression, Falling In Love, First Times, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Smut, a love story over the course of a decade, chapters can stand alone, detailed trigger warnings at the start of each as well, ratings per chapter at start of each chapter, references topics discussed in BIG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 77,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: A decade of love told in moments.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: One Thousand Midnights or More [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772149
Comments: 214
Kudos: 234





	1. 2009 || love like fools

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter of this fic encompases one year of Dan and Phil’s relationship. Each chapter can be read as a standalone. As such, each chapter will have its own rating and specific trigger warnings if necessary at the start of each chapter. Not all chapters include the trigger warnings given in the tags section if they're not in that chapter. Together they tell the story of a decade of love; but if you need or want to skip one due to content, you totally can. I'll be updating every Tuesday. The fic is complete. 
> 
> I’ve tried my hardest to take the things we’ve been given and that we know to write this story, but of course, this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. I did a LOT of research for this fic but have probably made some mistakes. Let's roll with it.
> 
> I could not have written this -- and it would be awful honestly -- without [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) as my beta. I am more grateful than I can express for their help and patience as they read a fic that was literally me learning how to write again and helping me shape it into something I’m really proud of. 
> 
> Thank you to [karcathy](https://karcathy.tumblr.com/) for britpicking this chapter and yelling at me about pants/trousers about 400 times.

** Chapter Rating: M  
Additional TW: self destructive behavior, alcohol, poor decision making,  **

**Preface**

Sometimes Dan had the impression that the world was moving around him, a hyperblur he couldn't breach, an invisible membrane between himself and others. Maybe it wasn’t that the world was too fast, or too bright, or too loud, but that there was something fundamentally broken about him. Well, honestly, Dan _knew_ there were several things broken about him. There was no maybe. No amount of wishing them away ever worked. Pervasive loneliness and isolation were just the tip of the iceberg, really. 

Before Phil, before YouTube, before he escaped Wokingham, Dan was an automaton boy, capable of functioning externally when internally, he swung from self loathing to an empty void, a blankness that might terrify anyone else. He had friends that never really knew him. Hell, his ex never _really_ knew him, and not because he didn’t love her to the best of his ability, and not because she didn’t love him. Well, the version of himself he gave her. Dan spent years perfecting the art of letting people skim the surface. Fleeting moments would come when he wished for more, when he wanted to be known. But he couldn’t. He never felt truly safe. He couldn’t trust, fundamentally, that if he let down his guard, he’d be accepted as likeable, as loveable, as valuable.

Sometimes he’d lay on his bed, eyes tracking shadows moving across his wall, taking apart the concept of unconditional love. If unconditional love wasn’t really just a myth, a self soothing rhetoric, something akin to belief in God. His mum and dad loved him, sure. But not like _that_. Dan knew he had come into their world a life-changing burden, an unplanned wrench in the works. Perhaps his Nan loved him the most. But if she knew who he really was, _how_ he was, that would fall apart. They would all turn their backs on him. 

Dan wished, so often and so fervently, that there was some way to turn his back on himself. Remake himself from the inside out. When he felt his worst, at his lowest points, he wished he could erase it all. He was so _tired_ and lonely. Pretending he didn’t hate himself, that he was the loud, annoying, brash, funny boy others saw was so unsustainable. He could see it all, a future which was a never ending loop of the same, the same, the same. 

But then, Phil. 

Phil who was bright and creative and too much and hilarious and sweetly open. Who was so available to Dan, even through a screen or a phone, and then one day, finally, brilliantly, in person. 

Two minutes past midnight the day before Dan was set to board a train, Phil’s eyes had never seemed so blue and vibrant through his computer screen. 

“I can’t wait to know you Dan.” 

Dan’s breath caught and burned in his throat because really, tomorrow was today. It was two past midnight and the tips of his fingers tingled. He wanted to say, _Nothing will ever be the same,_ or _I can’t wait to be known._

“Yeah,” he managed. “Me either.” Words that could mean anything, but that he wanted with his whole self to mean as much to Phil as they did to him.

 **2009**

**October**

****

Three steps from exiting the train, a paralyzing fear took hold of Dan. He was so close, just seconds from something, someone, he’d ached for, for months. Phil already made Dan feel so much, some intangible bond that pulled and tugged at that invisible barrier always dogging him. Phil was a series of tiny tears in that membrane separating Dan from the world, ripping through slowly, ushering in a too-much feeling, the sparking of potential. Phil offering Dan a touch, a hug, a space to exist and breathe and simply _be_ , to unclench his muscles, a space where that knot in his belly might melt away, would mean so much. Dan yearned for Phil’s touch, even when he was simultaneously terrified that it might be too much. His trust in Phil battered against that inner dialogue, that secret self that was so loud, so pressing, so insistent that he was unlikeable, unloveable. 

Dan would be flattened if this fell apart. 

Phil was magic, an exception Dan thought would almost be worth the risk. 

“Come on then,” the passenger behind Dan barked, startling him back into movement. Only three steps from a new future, Dan drew a breath and then took a chance.

* * *

The Dan that Phil knew was impetuous and volatile, by turns unafraid and uncertain, vulnerable in flashes of sweetness Phil was sure that brash volatility was meant to cover. For all of his initial skittishness, over the past months Dan had slowly lowered his walls, revealing a frightened, frighteningly soft heart. When late nights began to wax into too-early mornings in that timeless space between screens, Dan shared enough for Phil to know that his world wasn’t one with room for kindness or understanding, that Dan had no place to feel safe or at rest. That Dan took sometimes frightening risks with his body and well-being that betrayed a heartbreaking lack of self care. Dan would tell him, sometimes, about the trouble he would get himself into. About parties where he’d get much too drunk, where he’d lower his inhibitions enough to let himself be used, to use others.

He never told Phil that he hated himself, precisely, but Phil could read it in these stories. Phil ached when he heard it, because Dan was so much more than he gave himself credit for. Phil never knew how to _show_ Dan how brilliant and sweet and funny and sharp he was. How he was a puzzle piece whose edges Phil dreamed would match his own. Dan told Phil about his exploits like he was daring himself to do so. Like he wanted to paint a picture of himself Phil might judge or dislike. Instead, Phil wondered what it might be like to have Dan at his side. How he could keep Dan safe, or make sure Dan knew that there was someone in the world who didn’t want to take from him. Who wanted to be with the boy under the mirage Dan put on for everyone else. Phil wanted to be with that mirage too, if only so that Dan could trust that there was someone in his life who was beginning to know, and wanted to know, every facet of who he was. 

Phil’s world wasn’t the same, but he understood what it was like to ache for respite. For someone to be still with, someone who would _get_ him.

Phil expected to meet an armored version of Dan; he hoped that somehow, between the two of them, they’d manage some space for the naked honesty they’d shared before. Phil was thrilled by the thought of seeing Dan without the distance of space, pixels a barrier and hindrance. He was so nervous, though. What if it was that very distance that allowed them the freedom to be as daring as they sometimes were? What if those moments when he felt that he’d bared himself were only possible in that surreal liminal connection? 

How it would be in person though...the thought terrified him. He was also so excited he was jittery, like he was coming out of his skin. He laughed aloud at his own absurdity, sure he looked crazy, alone in a train station laughing at nothing. Phil’s erratic moods were as contradictory as Dan’s sometimes; they just presented differently. This over-eager, chaotic mess of nerves in his stomach wasn’t unfamiliar to Phil; how strongly they rose and curled inside him was. 

In a few minutes, he would get to be contradictory with Dan in real life. 

It turned out that the boy he’d come to know online, the boy he expected, both did and did not exist. 

Yes, Dan had some of that brashness, but it was so clearly bravado, a skin he slipped into. Phil thought it was nerves. Phil’s nerves turned him into a weird disaster, making him do silly things like claw at Dan, laughing too loud and stumbling over his feet and as he sometimes did, communicating in animal noises when he didn’t have words for the size of emotions attached to them. Dan never laughed at him or pulled away. Instead he laughed _with_ Phil. He didn’t judge him, almost as if every touch was welcome in a needing, sweet way. Dan’s eyes softened, readable fondness Phil had seen through a screen many times before. He changed like quicksilver in his nervousness, pulling on this different self in small moments when he’d become aware of himself, as if Dan’s own awkward, strange, unusual personality were confronting him. Phil wasn’t sure how he knew how this edgy boy had all of these facets. It was brilliant, really, because Phil could see Dan’s moods shifting. He thought, already more besotted than he should be so soon, that he could watch Dan like this for days, weeks, years, and still be discovering who Dan was. 

Phil didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he just liked Dan _so much_. In the days before Dan’s arrival, he’d had several serious introspective conversations with himself. Phil wanted to be sure he wasn’t just enamoured with the potential for a relationship, something he’s longed for for years. He wanted to trust that the instant, strong connection with Dan wasn’t just a wistful dream.

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Dan said. He’d turned toward the window in the sky bar, watching the sun set. He was still, more still than Phil had ever seen him, barring the lovely moments he’d gotten to witness Dan slipping into sleep over Skype. 

“Isn’t it awesome?” Phil said. _Is it romantic?_ He wanted to ask. _Can you tell how much I want this to be a date?_

Did it count as a date if the other person didn’t know it was one? Phil wanted to give Dan some of the best parts of Manchester. He wanted to see the city through Dan’s eyes. He wanted romance—not just for Dan, but for himself. It was easy to allude to feelings online. Somehow it felt safer. Here, in person, the utter vulnerability of it kept Phil a step back, unable to present all of these truths and place them at Dan’s feet just in case he’d been reading everything wrong. 

“Thank you,” Dan said then. He was holding the drink Phil had bought him, but he was pretty sure Dan was thanking him for more than that. His beautiful eyes were so much deeper in person. The tilt of them, their lovely shape, the sweet shyness Phil hadn’t been expecting left him wanting to stare. He wanted to drink in every bit of Dan that was new to him now. 

Of course, they were somewhere much too public for how Phil wanted to do that, but Phil didn’t think there was much harm in returning that look. That fear of vulnerability shifted in that moment, when it seemed a thousand words were exchanged in a glance. 

“Of course,” Phil said softly, and yearned to take Dan’s hand in his, slotting their fingers together. 

Their drinks were done; Phil was pleasantly loose and giddy when they spilled back out onto the Manchester streets. 

“One more thing, yeah?” he asked. “If you’re up for it.” 

“I’m game for anything,” Dan replied with a sly smile. Phil couldn’t quite be sure, because he was still learning the boy in front of him, but he didn’t think it was actually a come-on even though it seemed like it was. More, it read like something Dan might say to any other person automatically, one who didn’t care about him or for him. Phil understood emotional muscle memory, the way you could act on instinct to a new situation like it was an old one. He wanted to treat Dan with the care he felt for him, that Dan deserved. He wanted Dan to want to be cared for too, to know he was worth that care. To have someone in his life who wasn’t going to take advantage of him, who wasn’t going to use him, who was actively trying to _see_ him. That might take a while, but Phil was ridiculously attracted to Dan. He couldn’t deny that the small innuendo made something hot and wanting burn in his belly and chest. The way he felt about Dan was much bigger than that desire though. He wanted to be sure Dan knew that too. Words weren’t always easy with Dan though; he was very, very good at turning things around and deflecting compliments. Phil would just have to show him how much he respected him, how that respect translated to more than just wanting to take from him. 

“Not afraid of heights?” Phil asked, sidestepping Dan’s innuendo.

“Nope,” Dan said. His shoulder brushed Phil’s when he crowded closer to his side. There was no one else there, so technically he didn’t need to stand so close. It was sweet. 

“I thought we’d go on the Eye. See the city from a new perspective at night?” 

“Sounds perfect. I’d love that,” Dan said. His smile was brilliant for a moment, until he averted his eyes.

* * *

If Dan could put Phil into the fewest words possible, he’d say that Phil was overwhelming. Phil’s presence was like a heavy blanket; Dan was absolutely covered and weighed down by how incredible Phil was. He didn’t feel smothered or anything, just comforted and comfortable. Dan could sit next to Phil for days and not tire of him. Phil radiated an aura of safety and peace and fun. It wasn’t just that he could tell Phil was into him; it was in the fact that somehow, instantly, Dan knew he could trust Phil. 

Phil was funny. He was awkward and sweet, and even if he didn’t come out and say it directly, Dan knew he’d just been taken on Phil’s dream date. He wouldn’t have thought to do these things himself, but now that he’d had them, Dan understood being in love with romance. He wanted more. 

Pressed arm to arm and thigh to thigh with Phil, perched at the top of the wheel, a blanket of city lights scattering before them a luminous carpet, Dan couldn’t help himself. He didn’t _want_ to help himself. Phil had been studying him, longer and longer glances, little breaths and darted looks to Dan’s lips. The obvious yearning paired with nerves gave Dan a boost of confidence. He didn’t feel like the younger of the two in the moment before he went for it, leaning in to press his lips so softly to Phil’s. 

The kisses shared then lingered in sweetness, in newness, in nerves, and it wasn’t until Phil pulled back fully, cheeks pink and eyes bright, that the energy between them shifted. The wheel began its descent. It wasn’t the movement of the chair that swooped through him though, rather it was Phil’s fingers threading through his hair, the tilt of Phil’s head and the confident and _thorough_ kiss given back moments before they had to exit the wheel. 

They stepped off together. Dan touched the metal barrier of the exit path to ground his swimming head. He’d been kissed hard before; he’d kissed with what he thought was passion or desire and plain old horny need. He’d never experienced a shred of what Phil woke in him with that last kiss. Dan wanted more, _now_. Dan wanted it quite desperately. But he was also terrified, and he had no idea why. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, and it was definitely one he wanted to hide from Phil until he’d figured it out.

* * *

“D’you want a tour?” Phil asked. The door closed behind him with a steady thunk. The house was heavy with silence, big and nerve wracking. Dan was quiet, the chatter of the day and evening slowing the closer they got to his house. Phil wanted to ask what was wrong, or if he’d done something, if he’d pushed too hard or somehow communicated that he had any kind of expectations with that last kiss. Like, sex type expections. Which he didn’t. He’d spent so much of the day a ridiculous wreck, hoping to impress Dan, hoping so much that Dan would like him even a fraction as much as he liked Dan. The only expectations Phil had were simple. Laughter and late night talks. Dan’s face over breakfast, maybe even a real life glimpse of his curls. Making a video together, and all the minutiae that would come with. He knew Dan was excited to see Phil’s filming and editing process. Phil didn’t think he wanted to show off, exactly, but he was eager to share filming experience with Dan. 

Sure, Phil would love more kisses. He definitely ached to know how Dan’s body might fit against his in sleep. It would be a bold-faced lie to say he wasn’t incredibly attracted to Dan, but he didn’t _expect_ any of that. In fact, when it came to sex, were it to even to come up, Phil kind of wanted to wait. Assuming that after this weekend, Dan still wanted to see him. Phil already knew he wanted as much of Dan as he could get, as often as possible. But things were still too new, too undecided for him to go telling Dan that. 

“Um, yeah,” Dan said. He brushed at his fringe with shaking fingers, eyes on the floor. 

“Well, come on then.” Phil grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together, pulling Dan behind him and leaving his bag at the door. “Are you ready for some creepy shit, mate?”

“Judgement’s out on if it’s actually as creepy as you say,” Dan quipped. 

“Oi! You promised you’d come be brave for me!” 

“I never said that meant I was going to be _scared_ —whoa, hey. _Wow_. Phil, that’s the creepiest doll I’ve ever seen.” 

“Right?” 

“Your mum sounds awesome, but why the hell does she have these?” Phil watched Dan explore. “Can I film this later? This is wild.” Dan’s nerves visibly eased as they wandered the house. 

“Sure. I’ve got no idea when it comes to my mum. She collects these things and no one has the heart to tell her they look like Satan’s minions.” 

“Maybe the house is calling to them,” Dan said. 

“Oh my god, don’t even.” Phil put a hand to his own chest. His heartbeat kicked up at the simple thought. “I already think this place is haunted.” 

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t believe in ghosts or haunting,” Dan said. He stepped close to Phil and slipped his hand under Phil’s, so that he could feel Phil’s heart beating. “So I’ll be brave for you, yeah?” With Dan so close, Phil’s whole body thrummed. _Look what you do to me_ he wanted to whisper. He didn’t dare speak though. He didn’t want to push at all, worried that Dan might go along with something simply because that’s what he’d gotten used to. Phil worried so much about Dan’s sense of self worth. 

That didn’t stop him from kissing Dan when Dan stepped closer. It didn’t keep him from curling his fingers through Dan’s against his chest, and when they were so close their bodies would be touching but for their hands, it didn’t stop him from flattening his other palm over Dan’s heart to feel how it thrummed for him too. 

“Is there more?” Dan asked, pulling back only enough to whisper. 

“More what?” Phil cleared his throat. 

“More to the tour.” Dan giggled, pulling away and nervously fixing his hair again. Phil swept his fingers through the hair above his ear, as gently as he could. Dan closed his eyes. 

“Of course. I haven’t even shown you my room,” Phil said. Dan’s eyes popped open. “No, I didn’t mean—god that sounded like a line didn’t it? I promise—” 

“Phil. _Phil_ , calm down. It’s okay.”

Phil took a breath. “Come on then.”

* * *

“And welcome to AmazingPhil’s bedroom!” Phil stood aside and ushered Dan in. He was using his video voice, his persona voice.

“You dork,” Dan said. He dropped his bag just inside the door, hoping that wasn’t presumptuous. “I don’t want to see AmazingPhil’s bedroom. I’ve been waiting to see the room my best friend is in when we Skype.” 

Phil’s eyes crinkled with the force of his smile. Dan’s stomach clenched. 

“Well then,” Phil said, softer and more himself. “Here it is in all of its green glory.” 

“Wow, yeah.” Dan scuffed the carpet with a socked foot. “It’s even brighter than in video.” 

“I reckon you think it’s hideous then?” Phil sat on the edge of his bed. Dan decided to take a chance and sat too, close enough to touch but not actually touching. He desperately wanted more kissing, but as much as he wanted it, he was a little scared. He still hadn’t figured out _why_ , because this was _Phil_ and he could never be scared of Phil. Not knowing why he was so nervous was only making the anxiety worse. Dan had never in his life had a best friend, someone he could tell anything to. Someone he’d shared even some of his worst secrets with, his most personal fears. Dan had this wild thought: he wished he could talk to Phil about why he was so nervous, but Phil was the very thing he was nervous about so he couldn’t. Could he? 

Phil’s eyebrow was raised and Dan realized he’d been asked a question. “Oh! No, not hideous. It’s very you actually.” 

“I’m going to hope that’s a good thing.” Phil bit his lip. 

“Phil, everything about you is a good thing,” Dan said. He very much wanted Phil to hold his hand again. But a large part of him wanted Phil to take the initiative, wanted Phil to make a move first. Not that he hadn’t been receptive to each of Dan’s touches thus far, but the adrenaline rush of putting himself out there, the rollercoaster of emotions and sensations that came after, and then the comedown were beginning to take a toll on him. 

“This is a little weird, innit?” Dan had to lean in a bit to catch Phil’s mumbled words. Relief rushed through him. 

“Yeah, a little,” Dan said. “It’s...I have all these things I’m thinking and feeling and wanting to figure out, and you’re...well you’re my person. I mean, I know you have your own friends to talk to, and really we’ve only known each other a few months, but—”

“I get it,” Phil said, stemming the rushed babble. “And yeah, I have friends, but none that feel like this, you know?” 

Dan nodded and when Phil _finally_ took his hand, Dan gripped it like a lifeline. 

“I know it’s strange,” Phil continued. “That like, we’re the people we want to talk to about this thing. But I guess that’s like, communication. Which is important, um, in...er,” Phil looked away, shoulders settling too high with tension. 

_In a relationship._

Dan wanted, badly, to finish that sentence for him. Because he knew that’s what Phil was trying to say. But he also knew it was really soon. Nothing was official. They lived three hours from one another. Being with each other in person was _so_ different too. The day had been lovely, but Dan knew they’d need more than a few days to really begin to define anything. They were in territory where their friendship was settled, was strong. Anything else was a layer. Layers they could or could not add onto what they already had. Dan was young, but he wasn’t dumb. He’d been in a relationship before, one that wasn’t founded on trust. One he fucked up so much because underneath it all, he and his ex girlfriend hadn’t been _friends_ in the end. 

“Phil.” Dan’s voice was so soft, lost in the oppressive quiet of the room. 

“Yeah?”

“No matter what happens, you’ll be my friend right?” Dan’s heart was in his throat, but also in Phil’s hands. 

“Dan,” Phil said, blue eyes wide and unblinking and sincere, “yes. _Always_. And you?” 

“I have no idea how I’ve survived this long without a friend like you, Phil. Really.” Dan meant it. He knew how alone he’d felt for years. Having Phil only highlighted how brutal his loneliness really was. “I don’t wanna fuck this up, because...I need you.”

“Okay,” Phil said, louder and with more conviction. Funny how Dan associated Phil’s room with liveliness, filled with energy and alive even through a screen. Really, Phil was that liveliness, and this room simply held it for him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Let’s put on some pajamas. I’ll grab some snacks, and we can sit and talk, or watch a movie. Listen to music. Whatever.”

Dan was sure, positive, that his dumb cheeks were reddening and giving his happiness away. Even if they didn’t, the smile he couldn’t help would. “As long as popcorn is involved, I’m in.” 

“Absolutely. Your wish is my command.” Phil kissed him then, right on the reddening patch Dan knew his face gave his feelings away. “I’ll show you to the loo. You can get ready and we’ll meet back here in a bit, alright?” 

Dan nodded. His heart was so full. Like, way too full. Like every ounce of care Phil directed toward him only filled and filled it up and he had no idea where it would all go, but was certain that too soon, it would all come spilling over.

* * *

Phil found Dan in his bed, propped up against the wall and under the covers. He’d changed into a simple white shirt, well worn, the collar drooping a bit to expose his collarbone. Phil’s mouth actually, literally, watered. 

“Here we go,” he said, setting the bowl of popcorn down. He took one deep breath to calm himself and he sat, gingerly, so as to not upset the balance of the bowl. He took a second breath to calm himself more so that he mightn’t disturb the balance he and Dan were striking. The third was simply because he was a man falling hard for a gorgeous boy whose beauty was striking and very nearly painful. 

“I like your pants,” Dan said, then giggled. “Your pajama bottoms, I mean.”

“I was going to say, how would you even know?” 

“I swear, I wasn’t spying or anything” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind, that much, if you were. Plus no one wears pants under pjs,” Phil said without thinking. Dan’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, I just—”

“Phil,” Dan said. “It’s fine. I think...we’re just going to keep being awkward, yeah? But obviously there’s...a thing. Something.” 

“And that’s why we should talk,” Phil finished. 

“How is it that I feel like I can talk to you about anything and also, this is weird and hard because I want to talk _about_ you?” 

“Probably something to do with those friendship promises we made earlier,” Phil said. Dan was quiet for a while, the sweet line between his brows giving away how deep in thought he was. Phil took the opportunity to stuff his face with popcorn. 

“I really like you Phil.” Dan was tracing the pattern of Phil’s bedspread. His cheeks were red and his eyes cast down. 

“Dan, I can’t—I can’t even tell you how much I like you,” Phil said around the popcorn, then swallowed. “I mean, maybe you know, since I was such a freak all day.” 

“I liked that,” Dan said. His smile was open and sweet and young. “I like that you’re weird and awkward. You’re funny and you’re so... _you_. You make me I feel like I can be weird and awkward and just, you know. _Me_.” 

“Yeah.” Phil set the bowl in his lap and scooted closer until they were shoulder to shoulder. Dan tilted his head and rearranged himself so that he could slump against Phil. He also left a trail of popcorn on Phil’s lap and the bed when he began to stuff his face too. They sat in silence, eating popcorn and getting used to the pull and weight of each other’s bodies for a long time. Before, the silence had been so loud. Now it was just right. 

Soon the popcorn was mostly gone, and without it as distraction, Phil could feel the weight of whatever had to happen next filling the room. 

“Time ‘izit?” Dan said, sleepy-voiced and sweet. 

Phil searched out his phone, trying not to move and budge Dan from his shoulder. Greasy finger marks smudged the phone’s screen. “Just past midnight.”

“Weird,” Dan said. “That’s early for me lately, but I feel like I could sleep for years.” 

“Mhm,” Phil said. He tried to wipe the screen of his phone on his pants but it just smeared the grease around more. “I ought to have brought napkins,” Phil said. If Dan weren’t here he would have just wiped his fingers on his pajama bottoms. He was warm all the way through, Dan’s confession curling up in his belly. Phil rather wanted to keep it that way. Maybe he didn’t have to try so hard to compensate or impress, but being a total slob wasn’t exactly the sexiest look. 

Dan lifted his cheek from Phil’s shoulder, smirked, then wiped his greasy fingers on Phil’s thigh. 

“Oi!” Phil giggled, squirming like it tickled. “Use your own trousers you animal!”

“But yours are already a mess,” Dan twinkled up at him, dimpled cheeks lovely, eyes nothing but mischief as he deliberately squeezed Phil’s thigh above his knee. Mortifying as it was, Phil squealed, knocking the mostly empty popcorn bowl to the side. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” Phil said, setting the bowl on the floor carelessly. There were bits of popcorn all over the place. They grappled for a bit, Dan’s breathless giggles high pitched and fucking adorable whenever Phil managed to tickle his sides. He had a slight size advantage, which he used to leverage himself over Dan. It was a short lived victory, as he didn’t fight nearly as dirty as Dan did. By the time they’d laughed themselves into gasping breaths, they were tangled in the bedspread and each other. Dan’s hair was in Phil’s mouth, his chest heaving in silent laughter. He wasn’t precisely on top of Phil, but close enough for Phil to really, really enjoy it. 

Dan was lovely-lithe; he wore these scoop neck shirts that made Phil crazy. When Dan lifted his head, his shirt drooped, offering a tantalizing view of his chest and collarbone. Dan was slight without being too thin. He didn’t look nearly as heavy as he was. On Phil, he was the perfect weight, six feet of gorgeous boy with infectious laughter and delicious lips. 

“You all right?” Dan said. He pushed up, to roll away maybe, but Phil pulled him back with a smile. “I’ll crush you Phil.” 

“You won’t. And besides, I like this,” Phil said. 

Dan went still then, eyes narrow, a skittish tension radiating from his limbs. 

“Don’t,” Phil whispered. 

“Don’t what?” Dan tilted his head but didn’t move. 

“Don’t say something awful about yourself, please.” Phil touched Dan’s lower lip with a fingertip. “I’d tell you not to think it, but I doubt it would work. But, I just...Dan...” Phil closed his eyes and sighed. God he was terrible at this. 

“How’d you know I was going to say anything anyway?” Dan asked. He didn’t move when Phil’s fingers found their way over his cheek. 

Phil wasn’t really all that great with feelings-talk. He was pretty fantastic at feeling things, sure, but talking about them? No. Sometimes he wondered if that’s how he was twenty-two and still alone, always wanting romance but unable to figure out where to find it. Late at night, when their calls had devolved into half asleep, mindless chatter, or even just quiet as they played different games while on screen with each other, Phil found himself slipping into a space where it was easier to say things. Or even to think about saying them. 

There had always been, for Phil, feelings he wasn’t ready for. He pressed and pushed and willed them away so well, to the point that he was quite often at a loss for words. He’d studied language at university for God’s sake, and couldn’t use it half the time, not when it was important. 

Phil was walking irony. 

But not now, not always with Dan. 

“You’re unkind to yourself, y’know?” Phil touched Dan’s ear, fingertips landing on the piercing for only a second, before running them through Dan’s hair. Dan closed his eyes, and Phil did too. Speaking into the dark made him feel naked, almost. But a good sort, the sort where your fears weren’t cloaking everything. “And you shouldn’t be. I don’t want you to be. You’re so beautiful and wonderful.” Phil did open his eyes then. Dan rested his forehead on Phil’s chest and Phil rubbed his palms soothingly over his shoulder blades. 

“”M not, really,” Dan said. 

“You _are_. What I see, wh-what I feel,” Phil cleared his throat. “You take my breath away. I literally cannot believe I’m here with you. That _Dan Howell_ is in my bed, and he likes me, and I can’t even with how much more gorgeous you are in person, it—” 

Phil wanted to go on, really. Once he popped the cork, his words pressed against his chest, insistent and urgent. He so wanted Dan to _hear_ him, but it was rather hard to keep talking with someone’s lips on yours, open and eager and even a little frantic. And okay, they weren’t words, but Dan’s kisses said plenty: _shut up_ and _I’m not ready to listen_ and even though Phil wasn’t one for overconfidence, _I can’t believe I’m with you either._

Dan’s hair was soft between his fingers; Phill cupped his head and kept him close, kissing him hard and long. When Dan climbed on top of him fully, resting his weight against Phil, Phil’s whole body tightened, fingers spasming and pulling Dan’s hair. Phil swallowed Dan’s little hiss of laughter, gentling his fingers. He wanted to keep everything about this moment, to take a sense photograph, to always remember how grounding Dan’s body was. How generous his lips were, how he let Phil lead their kisses. When Phil trailed his fingers down the long line of his neck, Dan shivered so hard, the smallest whine slipping from his mouth, Phil truly understood the permission Dan was giving him. The sort of permission Phil wanted to give Dan. Permission to learn all the ways to unlock each other’s bodies, permission to seek the little keys. 

Dan ground down then, rolling his arousal against Phil’s. And _fuck_ , Phil wanted it all. He wanted to linger in the small space between Dan’s ear and collarbone, to spend hours learning all the small noises he could pull from him. He wanted to follow the now roaring need, rising up and roiling through him, insisting he chase and chase the pleasure coiling low in his belly. He wanted Dan fast and messy, too much clothing between them and kisses so sloppy they didn’t count. He wanted to see Dan naked, to reverse the position of their bodies and memorize his shape under Phil. He wanted to suspend this moment, to stay just like this, on the brink of something he just knew, in his bones, would be the best thing in his life. Not just sex, but _Dan, Dan, Dan_. 

Phil wasn’t a goddamn teenager anymore, but Dan was just so much, too much, and Phil was quite certain, suddenly, that he was on the brink of embarrassing himself and coming in his pants just from the press of their bodies grinding together. 

“Dan, Dan, _ohmigod_ ,” Phil chanted, pushing against his shoulders lightly. “St-stop.” 

Dan pulled away; Phil slipped a hand around his waist to keep him close. 

“I’m sorry was that—should I not—”

Phil interrupted him with a kiss. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, because, _wow_ , loser. But if you keep doing that, I’m going to come.” 

“Really?” Dan bit his lip. It would have been impossible to miss that he was delighted by this. It made honesty easier; Dan wasn’t laughing at him or judging him. “Well, I mean,” Dan said, “me too.” 

Phil took a breath and closed his eyes. Dan’s crotch was still pressed against his, and the...situation...was only nominally abated by the pause in kissing. 

“I cannot believe I’m about to say this, but d’you think we could...I dunno. Pause?” 

“Oh, um.” Dan looked away and slumped off of him. He pulled away completely, out of Phil’s arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Phil whispered. He turned onto his side, facing Dan. “I’m...I think I’m going to say some embarrassing things now, okay?” 

“Phil,” Dan said. He pitched his voice low, matching Phil’s, so that they were again in a quiet bubble. Dan brought his hand up and rested his pinky on top of Phil’s, where it was splayed on the bed. “I don’t ever want you to feel embarrassed with me.” 

“Well, that’s kind of…” Phil searched for the right words. God, feelings were so bloody _hard_. Especially when they meant you were doing the opposite of what your body was insisting you do. Phil tried to tell the sex part of his brain to bugger off so he could figure the rest out. “Dan, do you want to hang out again? Other than this weekend, if you can?” 

“ _Duh,_ ” Dan said easily, a small smile playing at his lips. “You dingus. I want to see you as much as you’ll let me.” 

“Yeah?” Phil squirmed, let the happiness flood through him. He flipped his hand over to hold Dan’s. “Well. I hope you know what you’re in for. Because I kind of don’t want you to leave, like ever.” 

“I’d stay, if I could,” Dan said and it was a little sad. Phil tried to kiss that shadow away, a fleeting touch of their lips. 

“Is this a little crazy? Does it feel like this for you?”

“Like what?” Dan’s fingers squeezed and relaxed against Phil’s palm, over and over. 

“So big. And...I dunno. Real. Like, I just kind of made an ass of myself in front of you all day, and while I’ll probably spend the next month feeling like a total idiot when I think about it, it’s _you_ and so it’s okay?” 

Dan didn’t say anything for a long time. The lighting was low in Phil’s room, intimate in its way, but low enough that he almost missed the way Dan’s eyes shone with the threat of tears. 

“It does,” Dan said and sniffled. “Feel so real. And big. And scary, but good scary.” 

“Good scary?”

“Good scary because I’ve literally never felt like this before, but I know you won’t hurt me. I always thought that was kind of bullshit. That people could trust each other like that. But it’s not, is it?”

“I don’t know about everyone else,” Phil said. “But I’m sure of you.” 

“ _Fuck_.” Dan’s voice crackled, “You really are fucking amazing, you know that?”

“No,” Phil said, inching close, trapping their tightly held hands between their chests. “You.” 

“No, you,” Dan said, just before Phil shushed him with a kiss. And another. They bickered between kisses, bodies relaxing slowly. The last thing Phil remembered then was the way Dan looked, lips over-kissed and red, eyes fluttering as they fought sleep. He thought, _oh, forever please_ , and dropped into sleep. 

**November**

“What’s sex?” Dan said, pulling away from Phil’s mouth with a gasp. He groaned at his own stupidity, because this was _not_ this time for this conversation. Not with Phil’s body pressed against their own, increasingly desperate kisses and wandering hands daring to go just a little farther than they had before. Not when the amount of time they had alone before Phil’s parents got home from the cinema was so short

“Wot?” Phil’s face scrunched, adorable with confusion. “Dan, you—you’re not—”

“Well, I mean—” Dan sat up, pulling his shirt down from where it was rucked up. Already he could see the impression of bite marks Phil had sucked down his torso. 

“You haven’t, like, lied to me, have you?” Phil pushed his hair back. Sweat was gathered at his hairline. Dan was sure his own hair was a right mess from Phil’s hands in it and the sweat gathering at his temples. They’d been making out for ages, building themselves up, closer and closer to a line they’d yet to cross. 

“No,” Dan said. “I’ve done, um, everything.” He pursed his lips and looked away. He didn’t like to think of _that_ when he was with Phil. Sex was so many things to Dan. Yeah sometimes it had been okay, but also sometimes a chore, sometimes too much for him to take. Sometimes a way to get out of his head, to scratch an itch he kinda felt terrible about later. Something good but scary in its implications. It was drunk fumbling in the dark and asking for things he’d probably not been ready for, mentally or physically. 

He didn’t want that with Phil. Dan knew Phil would never hurt him. Like ever. And sex with Phil would never, never feel like it was a chore or an obligation. Dan’s whole body hurt with a hunger for him. But that small part of him that sometimes felt wrong, or twisted up with that deep seated knowledge that it _was_ what he wanted, worried and worried and worried. Worried over everything but presently, that sex couldn’t or wouldn’t ever be like Dan had dreamed it might. That the world really was full of bullshit fairy tales. 

“All right then,” Phil said slowly, trying to figure out what Dan was on about. 

“It’s just, I don’t know. It’s easier with girls. Knowing.” 

Phil sat up next to Dan, taking his hand. He played with Dan’s fingers while he thought. 

“Why is it easier?” he asked after a long silence. 

“What d’you mean? Sex is like, sex.”

“I’m assuming you mean, like, penetration?”

Dan made a face, feeling his cheeks warm. “Yeah?” 

“But why wouldn’t other things, like...I don’t know, going down on a girl, be?” Phil blushed so hard at the words; it was kind of adorable actually. 

“Um…” Dan tried to follow where Phil was leading him. 

“I just mean, if you’re asking me what counts, you obviously don’t know if _I_ think it’s sex.” 

Dan squirmed, much more uncomfortable with this conversation than expected. God he really needed to get a handle on his brain to mouth filter. Or like, acquire one. He was fairly sure that had he not asked, they’d be getting on with more than just snogging and clothed grinding. Orgasms. Dan could really use one of those. 

“This is…” 

“I’m not—I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Phil said. “It doesn’t even matter, talking about...that.” Phil’s face did a complicated thing. Dan was still learning Phil’s faces; he had no idea what it meant. Maybe just that Phil didn’t like to think about Dan with someone else. Or a girl. 

“Okay…?”

“Dan,” Phil said, turning toward him with a sigh. “I mean, I know sex has been a really different experience for us.” 

Dan’s flush spilled from his face all the way to his chest. Phil knew everything about him already, and had for a while. He’d never judged Dan, had only ever asked him to be safe. Dan hadn’t had a great track record with that. Phil wasn’t like that though. Phil had been with guys, sure. But it was just...different. 

“Yeah.” Dan picked at his cuticle. 

“We could always decide what sex is, together.” Phil offered. “Or just like...do what we’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to have a label if you don’t want?” 

The thing was, Dan did. Objectively he knew Phil was right. Defining things wouldn’t make a difference so long as they communicated with each other and were comfortable with it. But there was something about being able to say, even to himself, that they’d had sex, that Dan wanted. 

He had no idea _why_ he wanted that so badly. Generally, Dan hated labels. 

“I do,” he whispered. 

“Want to have sex, or decide what counts?” Phil turned toward him, brushed at Dan’s curling fringe. Dan leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Phil traced the shape of his ear. 

“I’m sorry, I fucked this all up and ruined the moment, didn’t I?”

“Dan,” Phil said, cupping the back of Dan’s head and shaking him a little. Strong and assertive, Phil’s voice asked Dan to look at him and really hear him. “This is _good_. I want it like this, with us, okay? Talking.”

“Phil,” Dan said. “I’m dumb. I, I don’t know how to say it. Or why I want it.” 

“Want what?”

“To know we’ve had sex? To have that? But also…”

Phil waited for Dan to speak, patient and kind, touching his neck and shoulder and hand softly while Dan gathered the words.

“ _Idon’twanttodoeverythingpleasedon’tbemadatme_ ,” Dan blurted out in one rushed breath. 

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil’s eyes went wide, “I could never. I wouldn’t—I don’t, like, expect things. Just because you’ve done them, I mean.”

“You don’t think I’ve been a tease?” Dan asked. Phil cocked his head, examining Dan’s face carefully. 

“No. Dan, I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give. Ever.” 

Dan’s smile wobbled despite it’s sincerity. “Me either, you know?”

“I mean, I sort of took that for granted,” Phil said. Something too warm and really big bloomed in Dan’s chest. 

“You’re so fucking well adjusted,” Dan said. 

“I don’t know about that,” Phil said. Dan made a face at the face Phil made. Phil laughed like Dan wanted him to. 

“Hey Phil?” Dan scooted back down until his head was cushioned on the pillow. He tugged Phil down until they were stretched out, eye to eye. He rolled forward and crushed their mouths together. Phil’s hand found Dan’s hip, like it always seemed to. 

“What?” Phil mumbled against Dan’s lips, breathless and wet. 

“Wanna have sex?” Dan said, pulling away long enough to watch Phil’s eyes. Phil’s hand was under his shirt, skirting his ribs, and Dan’s heart was pounding so hard surely his skin was throbbing with each beat. 

Phil smiled. “Fuck, yeah.” 

Sex with Phil wasn’t at all what Dan thought it might be. Partly because he’d been tangled up, thinking Phil would think sex meant something Dan didn’t want to do yet. But also because Dan had had a lot of sex and none of it was so messy and awkward and _close_ as this turned out to be.

Phil was all elbows, taking Dan’s shirt off, taking his own off. His gasp of pleasure when Dan raked hungry fingers down the skin of his biceps was a revelation. Phil’s hip bones, prominent and hard under Dan’s lips, were something to treasure. They’d been here before, gotten as far as this. Dan’s heart had no right to be beating so hard and fast; his fingers no excuse to shake like they were. 

It was a comfort, when Phil tried to get the button of Dan’s jeans undone, to see his hands shaking too. 

Dan kneed Phil in the thigh while trying to get out of his jeans without getting off the bed and Phil laughing at him made Dan desperate for his hands and mouth. The pale expanse of Phil’s thighs, once they’d gotten his pants off too, begged to be marked. Phil pulled Dan close the minute their clothes were off, a touch too rough; their teeth clacked together and it was all off center and so messy. But Phil’s skin all along Dan’s was so fucking good Dan had to pull away to breathe. 

He rolled Phil onto his back, climbed over his thighs to straddle him. With one hand on Phil’s chest, Dan took his time just _looking_. Phil let him, putting his arms over his head, smirking just a bit in a way that didn’t surprise Dan anymore. Phil in person was a lot of things he’d never show the camera. Sure, Phil was confident on screen, and sometimes a flirt. But _this_ Phil was his alone. Dan wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it, stretch out and let Phil look at him so closely, with such focus. 

“Kiss me?” Phil asked at last. Dan crouched, hands next to Phil’s head, keeping their bodies from touching too much. A part of him wanted to push, to ask Phil what he wanted, what would count. _Filter_ , Dan chastized himself. Because he knew now that it was just nervous stalling, a skittish need to put some sort of wall up. He kissed Phil, pressing all of those feelings into it. Phil’s hands found Dan’s body, his back and ass and ribs and collarbones. He rolled Dan off of him, plastering their bodies together. 

“Okay?” he asked. Dan nodded, trying to control the way his lips trembled. 

“Yes. I’m scared,” he said at once. “It’s so stupid.”

“We can stop.” Phil pulled away. Dan pulled him back as quickly as he could, humiliation sweeping through him. He was being a child. He didn’t even know quite what he was scared of, other than that this moment felt really big, that it was impossible to keep any walls up, this close to Phil. He didn’t want those walls but was so, so scared of not having them too.

“Need you,” Dan whispered, surging up to catch Phil’s lips. “Just...just stay close, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Phil said. He kissed under Dan’s ear, breath warm and tickling Dan’s neck. Their bodies rocked together in tiny increments. It felt so good, being so close, but also not quite perfect. Dan shuddered; Phil’s mouth was now busy at his neck, fingers tangled through Dan’s against the comforter. 

“Phil,” Dan whispered. Then, more urgently. “ _Phil_.”

“Mm?” Phil was leaving a wet trail down the column of Dan’s neck, now biting his shoulder. 

“D’you have lube?”

“Oh,” Phil’s head popped up. His eyes were all blown pupils, his hair a right mess. “Yeah, um.” Phil rolled away, leaving Dan cold and exposed. He closed his eyes while Phil fumbled for lube. “Here,” Phil said, pressing the bottle into Dan’s hand. 

“What?” Dan’s eyes flew open. Phil’s smile was so soft. Dan bit his lip. 

“It’s flavored, so it can be used—y’know. It doesn’t have to be. Um, I— I kinda…””

“What?” Dan whispered. Phil shifted, draping himself over Dan’s side. Dan ran his foot up over Phil’s calf, feeling the rough catch of hair. 

“I want you to pick.” 

“Pick what?” 

“What we do,” Phil said. 

It hit Dan, hard in his chest, what Phil was giving him. This wasn’t going too far without planning. This wasn’t Dan throwing himself blindly into something. This wasn’t Dan trying to prove something to himself, or making a shitty choice. 

“Close,” Dan said. He bit his lip so hard he might have drawn blood if Phil hadn’t thumbed it away from his teeth and kissed it sweetly. “Stay really close, please?” 

“Yeah,” Phil said. Dan squeezed lube into Phil’s hand. Some slopped onto his belly; Phil was awkward but excited and Dan restless and nervous. 

“ _Oh, fuck_.” Dan’s body arched into Phil’s touch. He opened his eyes in time to see Phil take himself in hand too. Phil’s dick was bigger than Dan’s, gorgeous and wide and one day, soon maybe, Dan couldn’t wait to take that into his mouth, to feel it stretching Dan wide open and aching. Now, though, Dan needed Phil on top of him. Everything was cherry and sweat scent, Phil heavy and uncoordinated, figuring out how to roll against Dan while Dan tried to find some sort of rhythm too. 

“Here,” Dan gasped. He grabbed Phil’s ass and tucked his face into the crook of Phil’s neck. Maybe they weren’t kissing like this, but it was dark and safe and warm. He licked Phil’s warm skin, tasting the salt of his sweat. Dan pulled Phil closer, pelvis arching against Phil’s. It was imperfect, their cocks rubbing together more than not but still not quite enough. It was okay though, it was perfect, because Dan wanted it to last and last, wanted to stay forever like this. 

Which was a lovely sentiment, until his calf started to cramp and both of their moans were edging into desperation, too much friction with no orgasm imminent. 

“Phil, _god, please_.” Dan bit Phil’s neck, shaking and hot and so, so overwhelmed by the way Phil whispered his name, by the slide of his body, grinding against him hard enough Dan could hardly breathe, by how close this all was, how close he felt to Phil. 

“Yeah,” Phil said. He planted his elbows by Dan’s head and lined them up as best he could. “Use your hand,” he instructed. 

“For both of us?” Dan said. He’d never done that before, and it seemed slightly improbable. 

“Your hands—oh _shit_ ,” Phil bit his lip, “are huge, trust me.” 

_Your cock is huge_ Dan wanted to joke, but bit it back. This wasn’t a moment for bants. Dan hitched his leg up, thigh by Phil’s working hips, and slid a hand between them. Their bellies were slippery with lube, their cocks more so when he managed to get his hand around them. Phil shifted to give him a bit more room to work with, but it felt so fucking good, the skin of Phil’s cock catching Dan’s on every stroke, that Dan didn’t manage to do much more than hold them together. 

He was moaning then, so loudly. Thank god Phil’s parents weren’t home because no amount of trying to keep quiet, stuffing his fist into his mouth or his burying his mouth against a pillow would contain this. Phil kept saying Dan’s name between curses, bitten off praise, small cries and breathy moans. 

“Phil, I’m—” 

“Yes,” Phil said ducking down, capturing Dan’s cries with his lips, letting Dan moan his pleasure into Phil’s mouth. Dan had barely finished, still pulsing with aftershocks when Phil came, the only warning he gave was the sharp bite to Dan’s lower lip. Dan shifted his grip so his hand was wrapped strong and steady around Phil, letting Phil fuck himself into the tight channel of his fist until he was done. 

After, Phil slumped against him, surprising Dan with how heavy he was. A trembling, a near violent shaking washed up and through Dan, but it was okay, because he was safe. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against Phil’s shoulder. 

“Wha’?” Phil slurred. Everything was so quiet, almost too quiet. 

“Thank you,” Dan whispered again, throat tight with the threat of tears. He’d had no idea, none, it could be like this. That he could feel so good, so close, so important. That he’d ever be able to let down his guard and be so vulnerable with another person. He said it over and over, so quietly, speaking the words into Phil and not the air. They weren’t for Phil’s ears, really. Maybe a little, but more, they were for Dan. 

“You’re so beautiful Dan,” Phil said, turning his head to whisper the words into Dan’s ear and not his skin. “It’s all right.” Phil kissed Dan’s lips and then thumbed under his eyes and oh, Dan was crying, a little bit. “Right?”

Dan nodded, kissed Phil’s cheek, and blinked the moisture from his eyes. “Yeah. Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/613480586048356352)!! 
> 
> This fic is my love letter to Dan and Phil; it is the first thing I tried to write when I was healing from post concussion syndrome after months of being unable to read or write. I’d never watched either of them until I stumbled across BIG last August. At the time, about all my brain could tolerate other than audiobooks was short spurts of screen watching. Discovering them gave me so much joy when I was in a really low place. I couldn't read or write until October, which meant I had two months to not only fall in love with them and their love story but also just to sit around thinking about it from the perspective of a fan who came to them in a post coming out universe.
> 
> This story literally took a village. Thank you to each person who has wandered into a WWC any time between now and October and held my hand or encouraged me. Thank you to Daye, chicken, jane, cal, autumn and puddle for listening to me melt down about this for ages, for helping me along, for being excited and encouraging. 
> 
> So many thanks belong to Mandy, because I never would have started this fic at all without you encouraging me to take a chance and believing that I could start writing again. You were more excited about this fic than I was quite often and I needed that. I picked up a literal pen and wrote my first sentences in months because of you. I don't know if you know how life changing that was.
> 
> chapter title from "Fools" by Lauren Aquilina


	2. 2010||i can feel it in your bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember, additional trigger warnings (if needed) and chapter ratings are at the start of each chapter in the body of the text!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more ( _ha!_ ) to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking, and for showing so much patience with my apartment/flat issues.

** Chapter Rating: M **  
**August**

“Here.” Dan nudged Phil’s shoulder, a cold glass of water he’d brought in from the kitchen already sweating in the heat. 

“Thanks,” Phil said, taking it with a smile. He patted the floor next to him. Dan sat cross-legged, knee pressed against Phil’s. The sun was beginning to set and the light inside the still-not-home apartment leached slowly from the room. It was sort of pretty but also made the apartment feel emptier, unfamiliar and sterile. 

“When do you think it’ll feel comfortable?” Phil asked, somehow tuning in to Dan’s train of thought. Or perhaps Dan was tuning into Phil’s. It wasn’t Dan’s flat, after all, but he held onto the hope that one day they’d have an flat together. He treasured midnight whispers about a dream-woven future together. Often fantastic, sometimes surreal, occasionally impossible, but also, under them all, true. Because threaded through each dream was this constant: a future together, in any shape it could or would take. 

Phil had been kind of weird all day. The last few, to be honest. Needier at moments, sometimes petulant, often silly to the point of being manic. Dan couldn’t fault him, really. Phil had spent countless hours worrying over what he was supposed to do _next_. He’d told Dan he fantasized about going back to school, just one endless cycle of accumulating debt, if only because it was easy. A reality that was an unreality. He loved learning and he got the freedom to play, to be creative without having to take real adult steps toward independence. 

Secretly, Dan thought Phil was a touch spoiled, because even though Phil’s parents were _encouraging_ Phil to leave the nest by pressuring him to make some big choices, they were also helping him in some big ways. Like with this empty apartment. Sure, Phil would be responsible for a whole lot more than he was at home, and he was expected to get a job or find a way to make money and step up. But it was all a whole lot more than Dan would ever get. 

Dan didn’t want to resent Phil for having his family, or his luck, or anything really. Because his family was what made Phil _Phil_ , his Phil. And having Phil was even better luck, in Dan’s opinion. 

Still, Phil’s erratic behavior emitted a kind of lost-boy vibe Dan hadn’t seen from him before. He’d have thought, what with Phil having gone away to university and come home, that Phil would know better than him what it took or how long it took to make a space feel like home. Dan liked to think he and Phil balanced each other’s nuttery, insecurity, maturity and immaturity rather well. Despite their age difference, there were times Phil would be doing something so utterly… _Phil_ , and Dan would be stuck somewhere between fond and exasperated. It was comforting, sometimes, to feel a little grown up though. Just as nice as feeling like he had someone he could be completely immature with, with whom silly play wasn’t just allowed, but encouraged. This, though, Dan hadn’t been expecting. Dan was the one who’d never lived away from home. Dan was the one dreading what an utter flop he was bound to be in a month’s time. He’d pinned a lot on knowing at least Phil would be near, and that Phil would know what to do. 

Phil stared out the window, more quiet than Dan was accustomed to. Not just quiet in words; but stillness. Even in exhaustion Phil usually vibrated at a charged frequency, bringing every space alive with his presence. Now Phil was quiet and, somehow, small, as if he’d folded into his large frame, made a child by new circumstances.

“You all right?” Dan asked. Phil’s profile was sharp. Dan wanted to kiss the jut of his nose, the underside of his chin. Push up his fringe and kiss his clear forehead. All places Phil had confessed over hours and hours together that he was sometimes self-conscious about. 

There wasn’t any part of Phil that Dan didn’t love, didn’t love to kiss or touch. 

This wasn’t the moment for kisses though. Sometimes Phil slipped into anxiety, sometimes felt paralyzed by a rush of thoughts and worries that he couldn’t control. Dan had sat with him many nights on the phone or on Skype, uselessly trying to support Phil from a distance. Each time he’d wished he could simply be there with him. Felt impotent and achingly sure that if he could just _hold_ Phil, it would help. 

Phil’s stillness was unnerving and Dan was so unpracticed at helping others. He couldn’t even help himself most days. Now, for the first time in person when Phil was falling into anxiety, Dan had no idea what to do.

“I don’t know,” Phil said eventually. He turned to Dan, eyes wide. 

“Can I—can I hold your hand?” Dan asked. He watched the smile break through, the way it started around Phil’s eyes, how his whole face brightened even before his mouth moved. 

“Always,” Phil said, opening his fisted hand. “You don’t need to ask.” 

“I want to help you,” Dan admitted. 

“You are. You do, Dan.” Phil gripped Dan’s hand, hard. 

“I haven’t done anything,” Dan said. 

“You’re here, aren’t you? I haven’t said anything and you knew. You know when something’s wrong when even my mother wouldn’t.” 

Dan couldn’t help the small surge of pride Phil’s words elicited, even as he had to bite back his own anxiety. Complaining how shite he was at taking care of Phil wouldn’t help Phil. Dan was crap at a lot, but Phil changed everything. With him, Dan was learning so much about how to be in love with someone else. He still failed often, but being in love with Phil was so different than what he had felt for his ex. Dan’s heart hurt still when he thought about her. Thinking of her was like entering a room filled with tangled chords. He was haunted, hated thinking about the months before he met Phil, hated thinking about the people he hurt, the shit he’d done, about how much _he’d_ hurt. Dan had thought he loved her, but being with Phil was like stepping into a dream, brightness at eleven, resolution so sharp it ached. Dan recognized so much more now, how he sometimes struggled to see past his own problems. It was easier, when you loved someone the way he did Phil, when someone loved you like Phil did him, to let go of that self-centeredness. Yes, he had loved his ex, but it was nothing like this. 

“Phil,” Dan spoke slowly, trying to find the right words. “It might take a bit, but once you’re unpacked and settled, it’ll feel better.” 

“Will it though? It’s so empty here.” 

“Well yeah, now.” Dan brushed the hair off of Phil’s forehead. “We haven’t unpacked everything. We’ll put posters on the walls, and all of your little things in the bedroom. We’ll find Lion and friends. Plus, we’ve still only fucked in like, two rooms.” 

Phil laughed because Dan wanted him to. “But you won’t be here, not all the time.” Phil said. He tipped his forehead down onto Dan’s shoulder. 

“Is that what this is about?” Dan stroked the back of Phil’s head. 

“Sort of. I guess I’m just...I know you’ll be in Manchester soon, but you’ll be at uni—”

“I’m still going to be here, like, all the time,” Dan interrupted. Phil chuckled. 

“But when you’re not here,” Phil spoke slowly, thinking things through. “No one else will be either. I’ll be alone.” 

_Oh._ It came to Dan then. Phil had moved and had to learn to be independent to a degree at Uni, but he’d never lived _alone_. He’d eventually made friends with his housemates in York. He lived with his parents after getting his degrees. Living in a block of flats wasn’t the same at all.

“Yeah,” he said, wincing as soon as he said it. “Crap, that sounded bad. I mean—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil said. The sun was fully setting now, and the room was bathed a dusky orange, long shadows creeping about them. 

“I know it doesn’t help to hear it, but they’re the facts, right?” Dan asked. He also spoke with care, hoping he wasn’t going to muck this up. “But you’ll figure it out. And okay, you’ll be alone in here sometimes, but you’ll never be alone because I’m always with you, yeah? Even though it sucks, we know how to be together when we’re apart. And you have friends here in Manchester; you’ll be seeing them plenty.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil said, smile wan. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be _here_ , here all the time. One day.” He gave Phil a small kiss, and touched the ghost of a smile that followed. “One day you’ll be so tired of me, and you’ll think back on this moment and go _‘Oh Phil, you were such a dumb twat, how the fuck do I get rid of this barnacle I let stalk me into a small personal hell?’_ ” 

Phil smacked his arm, laughing with his eyes scrunched. “Shut up, you’re the twat.” 

“Uh, I don’t think so. If I was a twat you wouldn’t like me,” Dan teased. “Last I checked, you couldn’t get enough of my dick.”

“You’re foul, Daniel.” Phil pushed his shoulder, almost knocking Dan over. 

“Oi! You’ll spill the drinks if you don’t stop.” Dan poked Phil’s sides, soaking in the sound of Phil’s giggles. 

“It’s just water, won’t harm much,” Phil said. Still he took their cups and moved them to the side. 

“What’re you doing?” Dan asked. He leaned back when Phil leaned in, suspicious of the playful look on Phil’s face. He tensed when Phil placed a hand on his knee. “You start a tickle fight out here, someone is gonna get hurt.”

“Maybe,” Phil said, biting his lip. His hand slid up Dan’s thigh a few inches. “I think I’ve got the upper hand though.” 

“A hand alone doesn’t give anyone the advantage,” Dan said, swallowing. Phil’s thumb dug into his inner thigh. He squirmed; it both tickled and enticed. “I think you’ve forgotten that I’m taller. I could take you.” 

“I’ll always have inches on you where it counts the most Dan,” Phil said with a passably neutral face that he managed to hold together for about fifteen seconds. They both dissolved into laughter, even when Phil tackled him. 

“You’re heavy,” Dan said once he’d caught his breath. They were in a tangled pile on the floor. “And this floor is really hard.” 

“I’ll show you hard,” Phil said. 

“I’ll show your mum hard,” Dan said without thinking, just as Phil’s lips met his neck. 

“Ew, _Dan_!” Phil pulled away, removing his hand from where it had just begun to sneak into the waistband of his jeans. “There are rules! No mum jokes when there’s actual sex!” 

“I’m sorry,” Dan laughed helplessly, tugging Phil’s hand back toward him. “You walked right into it! It was too easy.” 

Phil leaned in to kiss him, slow and thorough, though he resisted Dan’s pulling hand. “You know what?” Phil’s lips were warm at his ear, damp on his neck. Dan shivered hard.

“Hm?” Dan squirmed closer. 

“Your mum’s too easy,” Phil whispered, then rolled away before Dan could smack his arm, yelping with laughter. 

“I suppose I earned that,” Dan said. Flat on his back, he stared up at the ceiling. They should turn on the lights soon. Without Phil on him, or near him, Dan realized a few things. He was starving and the shadows in the flat were rather creepy. He wouldn’t want to be alone here either. His heart cramped a little at the thought that in a few days he’d have to go back home and leave Phil. He was dreading uni on a variety of levels, but he’d take that dread over distance from Phil any day. 

He stretched his hand out between them without speaking, finding Phil’s easily. 

“Hungry?” he asked. 

“Dying,” Phil responded. Dan rolled on his side and found Phil on his back, face turned toward him. He scooted closer on his elbows and kissed Phil’s wrinkled brow and sweetly pouting lips. 

“It’ll be okay,” he said with conviction, despite a complete lack of evidence that it would be. 

“I know,” Phil said. He tugged on a lock of Dan’s hair. “Pizza?” 

“Literally always,” Dan said

* * *

“It’s okay,” Dan asked, “that I just assumed I could come over whenever I want, yeah?”

Phil’s fingers paused their slow sweep up and down Dan’s arm. They were tangled together in Phil’s new room, the pitch black of midnight cocooning them. 

“But you didn’t assume,” Phil said. Dan sighed, tucking his face into Phil’s neck. Their bodies were damp with sweat that hadn’t cooled; it was warm in the flat, but even after they’d worked up a sweat together they hadn’t been able to bring themselves to separate and cool off. Phil sort of loved it. It made him think of Jamaica, of the heat and the laughter, of open windows but no breeze at night, how that week felt like something from a dream. They’d gone on holiday together other times, and each trip held a special memory or moment. Sometimes Dan would turn toward him, or laugh in a particular way and it would be Portugal. Dan would touch him slow or rough or terrifyingly sweet, and it would echo deep inside, the memory of briney air and flat grey of Blackpool. At some point, Phil had begun to label these sense memories. Tonight was a Jamaica night. 

“We’ve been talking about this since you got your offer, Dan.”

“I know,” Dan said. His voice was small, a sort of quiet Phil only associated with him at his most vulnerable, when he was unsure and trusting Phil with those feelings. “It scares me sometimes, how much I need you. I keep waiting for the day when that feeling goes away.” 

“When you stop wanting to be with me?” Phil tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. 

“No, I meant for you. When you get tired of me.” 

“Dan,” Phil pulled away and tilted Dan’s chin up. He could barely make out the shape of his face, but wanted Dan to know that he was trying, that he would always try to really see him, to show Dan that he wanted to see him. “That won’t happen. I _love_ you.” 

“Phil, you’re in your first proper flat. Living on your own! I’m just some stupid kid who’s making everything up as I fucking go—”

“Dan, stop. You’re not stupid. And you’re not ‘just’ someone, you’re _Dan_.” He wrapped an arm around Dan’s waist. Their sweat-tacky skin should be gross but secretly, Phil kind of liked it. He loved not caring about being kind of gross and _human_ with Dan in a way he’d never been with anyone else. Being so comfortable was so, so thrilling. “You’re _my_ Dan,” he whispered. Dan exhaled and slumped against Phil, all the tension of his body cutting out in one go. 

“I’m doing it again, aren't I?” 

“What, the thing where you decide I’m too good for you, or where you’re convinced you don’t deserve good things, or that you’ve somehow fooled me or tricked me into thinking you’re someone you’re not?” 

“Shut up,” Dan said through laughter. 

“Yeah, that thing where you still creepily think of me as AmazingPhil and are waiting in terror for me to call the police on the crazy stalker who won’t get out of my bed?” 

“Please, as if! They’d ask why you keep letting me in.” 

“And I’d have to say, _it’s just so cute how hard he tries to take my monster cock but then I remember he’s secretly collecting my pubes for his shrine—_ ”

“Phil!” Dan shrieked. “You are truly disturbing, d’you know?” 

“Who here is the stalker?” Phil leaned in and bit down on the closest part of Dan he could reach, which happened to be a bicep. 

“Who even thinks about things like stealing pubes for shrines? Fuckin’ freaks, that’s who.” Dan wriggled, a punched out breath giving him away when Phil bit him again. 

“You like that?” Phil whispered, kissing the wet patch where he hoped he’d left a bite mark. They were always having to be so careful about leaving visible marks; sometimes it was nice, in the dark, to pretend to forget himself. 

“What, your twisted mind?” Dan played dumb, teasing more touches out of Phil. 

“Yes, Dan,” Phil said dryly. He rolled Dan onto his back, fumbling for his hands. Once he had them he pressed them into the soft bedding, kissing and licking from the lovely round edge of Dan’s shoulder to his neck and then chest. He bit Dan’s nipple lightly and it was like he could feel the electricity of desire, the current of wanting in Dan’s body like he would his own. He kept moving his mouth down, letting Dan test the hold Phil had on his hands. Dan acquiesced, melting into the bed. Phil moved on to a spot just at the edge of Dan’s ribs. He nipped harder and Dan’s half laugh, half moan reverberated against Phil’s mouth. He sucked, thinking about how Dan was his, and how he’d be alone soon, how they’d both be alone. How he wanted to send Dan home with marks he could look in the mirror and see. That he could touch. That could speak to the ridiculous upwelling of feeling Dan inspired in him. 

“This okay?” he whispered. He couldn’t see Dan and while he wanted to think he could read Dan’s body, this part, Dan’s hands pressed into the bed and the complete darkness, was new. 

“More,” Dan demanded, and he didn’t have to whisper, because there was no one to hear. 

“Will you, for me?” Phil mumbled against Dan’s skin. 

“Of course,” Dan said. And _oh,_ it was like a punch in the gut, it was, when he didn’t even make sense to himself, but Dan somehow knew what he meant anyway.

* * *

“This is…” Dan took in the cinderblock walls, the tiny space, the tiny bed, and cursed his stupid, giant body. The room was cold and sterile and awful. He remembered, just a few weeks ago, talking to Phil about his flat and how it would eventually feel like home. And it did. Once Phil began to spread into the space, once they’d slept on the couch by accident, watching a movie. Once they’d had breakfast together in drowsy quiet, it had begun to feel like home for Dan too. 

There was literally no fooling himself here. This room would never feel like home, or a place he’d want to be. It felt like a cell. It was the embodiment of his dread, a manifestation of how he already felt about going into law. 

“It is small,” his mum said. “But you’ll get used to it. And you’ll be out in class or with friends. You won’t even be in here that much.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said. He fiddled with his hair. Nerves ran up and down his spine. He didn’t want to tell her how shit he was at making actual friends. It wasn’t as if they had that kind of relationship, one where she might know the real him. She didn’t need the burden of all of his crap in her busy life. “Sure.” 

“Did you say Phil was coming to help?” Karen asked, setting down the basket of bedding and clothing on the bed. His dad was out by the car waiting on them after having carried the last of Dan’s stuff up. The room was simply too small for them all. 

“Yeah, in a few hours.” 

“Well, it’ll be a tight fit for all of us in here. Why don’t we go to lunch now and we can head out after?” 

“Lunch sounds good,” Dan said. He turned away, biting his lip against the sudden pang of hurt. He felt very small, and very young. He hated Wokingham, and he hated who he was in the place they all called home. He hated the resentment he felt toward Adrian, who’d done nothing wrong other than being a wished-for child his parents were far more ready to raise and love. He hated how hard he had to work to keep his secrets from his parents, and the pressure he always felt under his father’s gaze. 

Still, home was home, and this wasn’t home. 

“You’ll do fine, love, I promise.” His mother put her arm around his waist. Surprised, it took Dan a few seconds to relax, and to lean his head on hers. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched like this. 

His phone chimed. “That’ll be Phil then, yeah?” Karen asked, recognizing the tone Dan had set for him.

“Uh-huh,” Dan said. 

“You’ve already got one good friend here Dan. You’re starting ahead of most people in their first year.” 

Friend. _Friendfriendfriend._ Dan hated that, hated how truly blind his parents were when it came to Phil. Hated that he wanted so badly to share what they had with the world, but even more, hated himself for being so fucking afraid of what that might mean. What people would think it meant. How the whole world would look at him and decide for him when he wasn’t even ready to put words to it. What he had with Phil didn’t feel like something a word or label could explain. He twisted his brain from that knot of fear and anxiety and anger.

“He’s just confirming when he’ll be here,” Dan lied. Or well, omitted the part where Phil texted how much he loved Dan and was sorry he couldn’t be there sooner. “Let’s find a place to eat.”

* * *

“God, this is smaller than I thought it would be, and I’ve lived in halls before,” Phil said. Between the two of them, they took up a lot of the left over space. 

“It’s awful,” Dan said. He sat down, feeling the mattress give horribly under his weight. 

“Dan,” Phil said. He sat too, throwing Dan’s balance off so that he sagged against him. Dan wanted to bury his face in the crook of Phil’s neck, to hide the rising need to cry. Phil didn’t say anything more. There wasn’t much to say. Dan sighed and rolled his forehead against Phil’s shoulder. 

“Will you lay with me, a bit?” he whispered. Nothing was put away. He’d only gotten as far as making the bed, setting up his laptop and plugging in his phone charger before Phil arrived. 

“‘Course,” Phil replied. They were tight together in the tiny space the mattress allowed, but it was good. Dan’s sheets smelled of home. Phil smelled even more of home. Dan wondered how long he’d have to keep Phil here for that smell to linger on his sheets. 

“I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?” 

“No.” Phil nudged Dan’s face up so that he could look into his eyes. “This is hard. It’s a big change. I know you’re not sure of this, and that’s okay. Remember what a mess I was when I moved to the apartment?” 

“I’m out of Wokingham,” Dan reminded himself. He closed his eyes and said it again, and again in a steadier whisper. He had literally no idea how he would manage it, but here Dan had the opportunity to start fresh. He just had to focus on the good parts of that reality, and not his fears.

“And you’re minutes from me, instead of hours.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said. He leaned in for a small kiss, smiling lightly against Phil’s lips. He’d promised himself before he came that he wouldn’t smother Phil. That he had to figure out how to live on his own too, and not just latch onto Phil because he made everything better, easier, brighter. 

The thing was, Dan was nineteen and he felt forever about Phil. That was a big thing to wrap his mind around. Phil was the only thing Dan had ever felt sure of. There were a million things about the world, about living on his own, about who he was and what his future was going to be that Dan didn’t know. Putting his future in someone else’s hands was a huge, grown up thing to do, and Dan was so far from an adult. What he wanted with Phil was an adult thing, and so Dan had promised himself to take these years and learn how to be him on his own, so that he could be good for Phil. So Phil wouldn’t regret anything, or change his mind, or tire of him. 

Dan didn’t tell Phil that last part, no matter how heavy the anxiety of it was. It hurt Phil when Dan thought these things. He tried his best to keep them pushed down, to allow himself to enjoy each moment he did have. Dan never could find the words for trusting someone the way he did Phil, while also deeply doubting his own lovability or worth at the same time.

Phil was right. His mum was right. He would be okay. He just had to trust himself, somehow. He remembered how huge the love he’d felt for Phil had been, far away in India and playing and playing Phil’s gift to him over and over. Dan had promised to love Phil as long as Phil would have him and he’d meant it. When Phil had asked for forever, Dan had known it was true. 

Dan’s brain lied to him often, and he just had to hold on to the good things, like Phil’s love, hard and fast, to keep himself afloat. 

_Forever_ , he said to himself. Phil’s fingers were in his hair, softly combing through where it had started to frizz in the heat of moving. _Forever, forever, forever_. Dan let the words lull him, pull him toward a deep sleep he needed badly. 

**October**

“Dan,” Phil said, eyes brightening as he swung the door open. “I thought you said you had to review tonight.” 

“I do,” Dan said. He plopped his bag by the door as he scuffed his trainers off. “But I just couldn’t focus there. I think it’s the walls. They stare.” 

“Have you taken a pill or something? You high?” Phil squinted, picking up Dan’s bag for him and setting it on the breakfast bar. It was cluttered with papers, dishes, an open box of cereal. The kitchen was a disaster of opened cabinet doors and more dishes. Dan set to cleaning and organizing immediately. 

“You don’t have to do that, Dan.” Phil came up behind him, settling his hands over Dan’s as he turned the tap on. 

“I know.” Dan turned and smiled, then gave Phil’s lips a quick peck. “It helps though. Setting things to order.” 

“I feel bad, you coming over here and cleaning,” Phil said. He did. Sort of. This was something Dan did, from time to time. Phil had learned that Dan did it most often when he was stressed or anxious. On the one hand, Phil liked that Dan was comfortable enough to do this, to treat his apartment like home, a space he was free to mess around in. Or, rather, un-mess. On the other, it kind of made him feel like a slob. 

Dan didn’t respond. He brushed off Phil’s attempts to help, which really worried Phil. Dan’s shoulders were tight, his hair a bit of a mess. As the holidays approached, his spirits got lower and lower. 

There were only so many ways Phil could tell him it would get better. That uni was hard for everyone the first year. That he just had to push through. Dan was more than smart enough for the work; Dan was brilliant, even if Dan didn’t think so. But Dan hated uni. He hated everything about it. Telling him it was only a few more years until he was done left a bad taste in Phil’s mouth. 

How often had he tried to keep Dan going by promising something better at the end of one milestone? Nights on Skype when they were living apart, whispering _it’ll be better when you’re in Manchester _only to now feel like he’d offered Dan empty promises. As many times as Dan said he could never imagine himself as a lawyer when all was said and done, the truth was, Phil agreed. Dan was bright, and creative, and shone most without restrictions. There wasn’t much to be done at this point though. Maybe stay on for more schooling once his law degree was through, like Phil had.__

__“All right, that’s enough of that,” Phil said, intervening as Dan began to pile Phil’s strewn papers together. Despite the disarray, there was an order to Phil’s things and Dan had a tendency to throw things away in an effort to perfectly center and organize what was meant to be on a counter, desk, or table. “C’mon, tell me what’s going on.”_ _

__“Nothing, _god_ ,” Dan snapped, dropping the papers. A bill Phil had been working out how to pay fluttered to the floor. Phil took a step back. _ _

__“Sorry, sorry,” Dan said immediately, pulling Phil in by the front of his shirt. He curled his body into Phil’s. Tension thrummed through every muscle. Phil smoothed his hand up and down Dan’s back. “I just don’t wanna.”_ _

__He didn’t want to revise, Phil knew. But it was more. The bruises under Dan’s eyes and the muscles like rocks between his shoulder blades made any fake reassurance Phil had to offer taste like ash. He kissed Dan’s temple, slid his hands under the hem of Dan’s shirt and rubbed the long line of his spine in soothing strokes._ _

__Or well, what he meant to be soothing. Dan turned his head and bit Phil’s ear. Not lightly either._ _

__“I hope you didn’t come here just for that,” Phil said. His wobbly voice gave him away. Well, and the fact that he tilted his head to give Dan more access. And the fact was that all Dan had to do was breathe the right way and Phil was hard in seconds. Still, he thought it best to offer some token resistance rather than enable Dan’s procrastination._ _

__“You want it, though,” Dan said, hands already brushing the front of Phil’s joggers._ _

__“Well,” Phil said, catching Dan’s hair with one hand and gently easing his face up so he could drop a kiss under each tired eye before diving in for kisses that didn’t even bother to start at teasing._ _

__“Well?” Dan asked. He was easing Phil’s pants down by then; Phil was struggling to get Dan’s shirt off without actually removing his lips from Dan’s neck._ _

__He pulled back. “I have no idea, actually.” Phil took advantage of the break, whipping Dan’s shirt off and then unbuckling his belt with shaking fingers. “What d’you want?”_ _

__“For you to fuck me,” Dan said without a pause for breath._ _

__“I fucked you like, two days ago Dan,” Phil pointed out. It wasn’t like he was complaining exactly. But also, Phil kind of missed other things. Face to face, slow, or god-forbid, even sweet. Dan never seemed to want that really, anymore. Not unless Phil caught him, sleepy and off guard, for slow morning blowjobs or lingering showers with no words, just increasingly sloppy kisses and uncoordinated movements._ _

__Nights like tonight, Dan had plenty to say. He had no problems asserting what he wanted, how he wanted it, which was generally to be bent over something, or pushed up against something, and fucked hard. Phil couldn’t tell what it was about this new routine that was starting to set him on edge, only that it felt external to _them_. Before, when they used sex as a way of working through or into feelings territory, good or bad, it always felt like it was _together_. _ _

__Phil wasn’t complaining, exactly. But nights like tonight, he wanted that togetherness because he needed Dan to know he wasn’t alone. He was always saying the wrong thing, he was sure, with his empty platitudes and promises. Phil rarely felt like he said the wrong thing when they had sex, because his body knew how to talk to Dan’s._ _

__Dan stilled. “Something wrong with that?” Phil thumbed the lovely column of Dan’s throat._ _

__“No,” he said, threading as much assurance as he through the words. Dan certainly wasn’t struggling with it now, but they’d been together long enough for Phil to have seen wild swings in the ways Dan reacted to certain kinds of sex. Sometimes, it was easy. Sometimes, it felt like Dan was daring himself, like he had something to prove by how good it was with the two of them, how _not wrong_ it was. Often, Dan spiraled into guilt over both spaces. “Sometimes I just miss your face.” _ _

__“My face?” Dan said, flat and unimpressed. It was clearly not the right time for this conversation._ _

__“Yeah,” Phil said, forcing a smile. Dan didn’t even notice. “I’m rather fond of it. Especially when you’re on your knees and sucking my cock.”_ _

__Dan smirked and bit Phil’s lower lip before sliding to his knees. There may have been a pang of remorse in Phil’s belly, but it melted as soon as Dan’s eyes met his, mouth full and lashes fluttering. Probably best to have this conversation once Dan had worked the edge off. Dan took him hard and fast, messy in the best way. Still, Phil got to frame Dan’s face, run his fingers through his hair, and though they didn’t say it as much as they had when they were living far apart, mutter, _I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you so much_ as he shuddered and came down Dan’s throat. They weren’t anywhere close to a sink so Dan swallowed. Phil pulled him to his feet, steadying him with hands on his hips as Dan’s blood got moving again, and kissed the taste of himself off of Dan’s lips. He loved that, honestly, but not so much that he was going to ask Dan to swallow when he wasn’t fond of it. In apology, he got Dan a glass of water. _ _

__“It’s all right, you know,” Dan said. His jeans were unbuckled and unzipped and a flush painted his slim, naked chest. “It’s not bad, with you.”_ _

__“Hm,” was all Phil could say. He didn’t usually mind, so much, thinking about the people Dan had slept with in the months before they’d made it official between them. But he certainly didn’t want their memory inserted into his post-orgasm haze. He pulled the cup from Dan’s fingers, kissing him deeper, searching for traces of himself in Dan’s mouth. He cradled the back of Dan’s neck and kept kissing him, knowing by the restless way Dan was plastering himself against Phil’s body that Dan was on edge, hungry for his own release. Phil just really loved him, was all. Moments like this he wanted to crawl into Dan, like there wasn’t any way to get closer to him._ _

__“I get it,” Dan said, pulling away with a laugh. “God, you’re always so needy after you come.”_ _

__Phil kissed one last _I love you_ against Dan’s lips, pressing unspoken words into his mouth, before pushing his hand into Dan’s pants. “Now what?” he asked. _ _

__“Now I sit on the couch because I don’t think I can stand it if you blow me,” Dan said. “Stand up,” he corrected quickly._ _

__Phil knew then, how Dan was full of the “too much” feeling that sometimes haunted him. Phil wasn’t really sure what Dan meant whenever he talked about this, how he sometimes felt helpless to a surge of emotions he couldn’t precisely name. Maybe, then, that was part of it. Dan already had a lot of _too much_ happening. _ _

__After, while Phil was catching his breath with his face mashed against Dan’s damp thigh, Dan’s fingers so soft and careful and sweet running through Phil’s hair, Phil found he couldn’t keep swallowing down the guilt._ _

__“Did I make you do that?”_ _

__“What?” Dan tilted Phil’s face up. “Make me come? Mate, you were there.”_ _

__“No, I mean—” Phil waved a hand. “It wasn’t what you wanted, really.”_ _

__Dan looked at him for a long time. Phil didn’t move, even though his feet were falling asleep, crossed and squashed under him like they were. He didn’t move because Dan didn’t._ _

__“C’mere,” Dan said, right as the silence edged into unbearable. Phil half-stood, half-fell onto the couch, wriggling his ankles to shake the pins and needles out of them. Dan pulled his pants up but kicked his jeans off. He pulled Phil up, so he was flopped gracelessly across Dan’s lap. “You’ve never made me do a thing I didn’t like.”_ _

__“But it wasn’t what you asked for.”_ _

__“So?” Dan said. “You get to ask for things too.”_ _

__Phil raised an eyebrow. “I do. All the time.”_ _

__“Not what I meant.” Dan rolled his eyes, but squeezed Phil’s knee and bumped their noses together. “And that’s not the point. My point is…maybe I don’t always really know what I want. Or I think I do, but it’s not really going to help.”_ _

__“O...kay,” Phil said, a little surprised to find the conversation turning where he’d wanted it to go in the first place._ _

__“Don’t let this go to your head or anything,” Dan said. “But I think sometimes you know what’s good for me better than I do.”_ _

__“Well, yeah.” Phil said, and then rolled his own eyes at himself when Dan huffed. “Not always, you know, I know that. But like, isn’t that a _thing_?” _ _

__“A thing?” Dan sounded unimpressed._ _

__“Like, when you’ve been with someone so long. Not that I’d know. But I kind of always thought that was how it would go. Where you understand someone so well you can feel what’s good for them, or when something isn’t. But still, you don’t _always_ know what’s the best thing for another person. I didn’t want to assume.”_ _

__Phil thought of his mum and dad, who were well matched. During his first years of freedom at uni, Phil had liked messing around as much as anyone, but he’d always known he wanted something like what his parents had._ _

__Still, even they argued. They didn’t always know what was best for the other._ _

__“But sometimes you do?” Dan asked._ _

__“Yeah. At least I hope so. For both of us.” Phil wiggled into a more comfortable position on Dan’s lap._ _

__“D’you reckon that means we need to talk and shit?” Dan asked. His hand was so warm, heat seeping from his big palm through the material of Phil’s joggers._ _

__“Well, don’t say it like it’s a chore or anything,” Phil said._ _

__“Soz, no I didn’t mean that.” Dan’s eyes were far away for a long minute. “We talk, right?”_ _

__“We talk all the time?” Phil was a little lost._ _

__“I don’t know, maybe not like we did.” Dan looked down._ _

__Phil’s stomach gave a small twist of anxiety. “And that’s bad?”_ _

__“No,” Dan said. “All we had was talking because we didn’t get to be in the same place. Now we are, and sometimes fucking is like...I dunno, a shortcut.”_ _

__“So more talking.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Dan said, pulling a face. “Feelings. Gross.”_ _

__“Shut up, you.” Phil smiled into a kiss. It was well good, then. Dan had opened a door, and maybe even put a finger on the pulse of what had been nagging him._ _

__“Nope, not shutting up.” Dan pushed at Phil until he had no choice but to clamber off his lap. “We’ll talk. But first, can we eat something? I’m starving.” Dan leveraged himself up using Phil’s hands. “And we’ll talk. But—” he poked Phil’s chest. “You’re still fucking me at some point.”_ _

__Phil grabbed his finger and nipped at the tip. “Duh, obviously.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! It's not complete yet: for now you have the chapter title songs, and I'll be adding other songs that were important to me in inspiration/mood as I wrote this. Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again thank you to each person who has wandered into a WWC any time between now and October and held my hand or encouraged me. Thank you to Daye, chicken, jane, cal, autumn and puddle for listening to me melt down about this for ages, for helping me along, for being excited and encouraging. 
> 
> So many thanks belong to Mandy, because I never would have started this fic at all without you encouraging me to take a chance and believing that I could start writing again. 
> 
> Title from It's You, by Wrable and Magical Thinker


	3. 2011 || aching now to let you in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember, additional trigger warnings (if needed) and chapter ratings are at the start of each chapter in the body of the text!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking and formatting.
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

**tw: depression, anxiety attack, reference to aftermath of youtube glitch**   
**August**

It wasn’t as if Phil hadn’t seen the way Dan’s moods dipped before. After two years, he’d have to be blind not to, and it wasn’t really like Dan had ever hidden it from him. There was a stark difference, though, between _knowing and sort of seeing_ , and _living with_ someone in Dan’s position. 

“Dan?” Phil knocked at the office door, which was closed. There was no reply. Phil didn’t want to intrude, because even though they tended to be very compatible introverts, happy to co-exist in silence, they also both experienced times they really wanted to be alone. But he hadn’t seen Dan all day. He’d been in bed last night when Phil finally finished editing, but he’d barely gotten out of bed the day before, so it was disorienting to wake up to an empty bed. Even at his best Dan was rarely the first to wake. “Dan, I’m coming in, okay?” 

Still nothing. 

“Oh,” Phil whispered when he opened the door. Dan wasn’t in there. _Shit_.The computer wasn’t on, but their extra bed looked like the scene of a struggle, sheets knotted up, comforter half on the floor. Dan must have left their bed at some point and come in here. Probably because he was tossing and turning. He was so sweet in all these little ways he tried to care for Phil even when he felt awful. They were small but added up to a lot. 

“Dan?” Phil poked his head back out into the hall, calling louder, knowing it was useless. Dan wasn’t home; he’d already looked for him everywhere else. 

He pulled his phone out to call him, then startled when he heard Dan’s ringtone for him coming from the bed. A quick search found the phone under a pillow. Phil cancelled the call, then stared at it, at a loss. He’d never known Dan to leave his phone behind. If anyone were likely to leave something behind it would be Phil. He was forever putting things down only to pick something else up. Dan tended to follow up behind if they had somewhere to be, sometimes with a fond smile or a put-upon sigh. When he was grumpy or if they were annoyed with each other, a snarky under the breath _Phil, seriously?_. 

Living together had taken some getting used to, as they adjusted to the idea that their shared space was Dan’s space too, not just Dan _in_ Phil’s space. They’d lived together for exactly four months and it had only taken two weeks for them to have their first real fight. Phil had honestly never thought of himself as being especially messy, and it never occurred to him that it would bother Dan, considering he’d been in Phil’s room and apartment all the time when they lived apart. 

It turned out that there were hundreds of things Phil did that got under Dan’s skin when he did them in spaces Dan considered his own too. Turned out that being constantly hounded for these things really got under Phil’s skin, and that he really sucked at finding the right words when he was angry. That he hated the way Dan talked right over him, that Dan never had a problem expressing himself when they fought. 

They were still learning how to fight, and that part was hard. Phil had maybe gotten spoiled by their first two years, when tense moments or little annoyances seemed to be the height of disagreement. When being together was so novel, so treasured, neither was willing to spoil it. 

He could understand Dan leaving if they were in a fight. Dan hated when things escalated regardless of which of them was beginning to raise their voice. The first time Dan walked out on a fight had stunned and infuriated Phil. Dan had been gone an hour, during which time Phil’s anger had grown and grown until he’d finally gotten a text. 

Dan: _I just need to calm down so I can talk without being mean or crying whatever_

Phil had breathed in through his nose and out his mouth and wondered when Dan had become more mature than he. Maybe he’d always been. 

Phil: _k_

Phil: _check in with me if you’re going to stay out? Pls :/_ Even when he was pissed, he still worried about Dan, walking in the late night darkness alone. 

Dan: _yeah_

Now, Phil sat on the bed, Dan’s phone in hand, searching his memory for anything he could have done, for any disagreement they’d had. The thing was, Dan had been so listless and flat recently. Phil hadn’t seen a speck of Dan-spark, at all. 

Maybe he’d left a note of some sort. Phil checked their room and then the kitchen and living room methodically. Nothing. He checked twice more, even places it would make no sense for Dan to leave a message, before curling up on the couch.

He sat in total silence for over an hour. Anxiety curled around him, but he held perfectly still, forcing himself to breathe and not freak out. The second he heard a key at their front door, that anxiety crashed through him, harder than he knew what to do with. Dan’s hair was wet and wildly curled. His eyes were bruised with lack of sleep. There wasn’t a trace of that liveliness that was so _Dan_ in his face or movement. 

“Phil?” Dan crouched in front of him. His clothes were wet and he was shivering. 

“Did—did you,” Phil gasped and closed his eyes, “without a coat?” 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan said, more urgently. His fingers were freezing against Phil’s cheeks. “Phil you need to breathe with me.” 

Phil put his hands on top of Dan’s, to warm them and keep them there. Dan moved one of Phil’s hands to his own chest. Phil didn’t open his eyes. Instead he read the rise and fall of Dan’s chest through touch. He tried to copy Dan’s breathing, tried to force his body calm. Eventually his breathing slowed, but fear and anxiety and anger still sat in his stomach, trembling through his limbs. 

“Where did you go? I’ve been so worried.” 

Dan looked away and shrugged. “I needed air.” Despite their connection, hands linked together on Phil’s cheek and Dan’s chest, Dan’s voice and affect was frighteningly dull. “I’m sorry if I worried you.” 

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil said. _Are you really sorry?_ , he didn’t ask. _Are you okay?_. There was no use trying to talk to Dan when he was like this. “Let’s get you into dry clothes okay?” He stood, pulling Dan up with him, into his arms. They were both shaking. “You’re freezing. How about a shower?” 

Dan shrugged. “Whatever.” 

Phil tried to remember when Dan had last showered. “I’ll run it for you. C’mon.” Phil pulled Dan to the bath. Sat him on the toilet while he turned the water on warm. Dan’s passivity was disheartening. Ultimately, Phil ended up in the shower with Dan, washing his hair, running soapy hands over his body. Dan just sighed, and when Phil had rinsed the suds from his hair, tucked his face into the crook of Phil’s neck. Phil wrapped Dan in a hug. They stayed under the water until it began to chill. 

“Here,” Phil said, handing Dan a shirt and his York hoodie, as well as some flannel sleep pants. When Dan was sick or sad, he always stole the hoodie. Phil had no idea what he was doing, or what was wrong with Dan. All he could do was follow his instincts. 

“Do you want to sleep? Or watch a show?” Phil asked once they were dressed. Dan’s hair was a curled mess, still dripping a little. Phil scrubbed it dry with one of their towels. The kiss he received, fluttering fast and barely there, lit a tinder of hope. That the tides might be turning. That his boy was in there somewhere. 

“Can I just sit with you?” Dan asked. 

“Here?” 

“No, wherever. If you wanna play a game or work.” Dan was tying and untying the hoodie strings. His lips were bitten red. 

“Yeah, sure.” Phil had a video to edit, but the day was completely off the rails anyway. There seemed no sense in working. He reckoned he didn’t even have the mental faculties for work right now anyway. He settled Dan on the couch, brought him water and a snack and handed Dan the softest blanket they owned. Dan wrapped himself in it, curled on the couch, ignoring the food. 

“How about Zelda?” Dan said. 

“Okay,” Phil said. “But...Dan could you at least try to eat or to drink?” 

“I...I don’t think I can,” Dan confessed. “I feel sick when I eat.” 

“Water, then?” 

Dan closed his eyes, sighed, and then opened them. Not in annoyance, but with the air of someone asked to do the most taxing activity on no energy. “Yeah.” He sat up, cradling the glass in his hand. Phil watched him sip a few times before Dan poked him with his toes. “Stop. I’ll drink. Play, please?” 

Phil squeezed Dan’s foot, then rose to put the game on. He couldn’t resist kissing the top of Dan’s head on his way back. His body needed contact with Dan’s, the assurance that he was here, and with Phil, even when there was something wrong, even though Phil was useless at fixing this. 

That night, Dan curled into Phil, silent but animated. His hands grabbed at the back of Phil’s shirt, his body insistent on closeness. He wasn’t okay, but he was fervent, empty apathy slowly draining. He kissed Phil, and then again, over and over, until they were both too tired to keep going. 

“I’ll be fine,” Dan whispered after a long while. Phil woke from the before-sleep-drowse he was falling into. 

“Yeah,” he said back. Dan’s back was warm, smooth and soft under the rhythmic back and forth of Phil’s hands. “Tomorrow will be better.”

Dan huffed a laugh. 

“What?” Phil said, a smile rising at the sound. 

“Today is tomorrow already.” 

Phil fumbled for his phone. It was well past midnight. “All right then. Today will be better.” 

“Promise?” 

Phil had to concentrate to hear Dan, the words whispered into his chest. 

“I’ll do anything I can.”

**November**

Dan was lighting the last small candle when he heard the door open. _Fuck_. A glance at the time told him Phil was early. Not that it mattered because Dan was basically done prepping, and all that remained was waiting and hoping that Phil would play along with Dan’s plan. Phil tended to call out Dan’s name when he got home, even when Dan was visible from the doorway. Dan could only take Phil’s silence to mean he was reading, or had read, the sticky note he’d left on the door. 

_If you’d like to play a game,  
I promise there’s more  
Just follow the clue  
On the other side of the door_

Okay, so it was cheesy as fuck—the whole thing was—but Dan knew Phil would get a laugh out of his silly rhymes. Well, usually Phil would. Only lately Phil wasn’t, well...himself. Not that either of them were, in their own ways. Being outed by a YouTube glitch had been a literal nightmare for them both. In the days after it had happened, while Dan had gone into an automatic damage control mode, contacting anyone he could find with the video to get them to take it down, Phil had sunk into a silence so unlike him that Dan had prickled with anxiety for hours on end. He’d wake up in the night, chest so tight he could hardly breathe, lingering images of Phil leaving him, Phil being taken away, of losing Phil in any number of ways his very vivid imagination could conjure. He’d never told Phil what happened in his dreams. Instead, he let Phil comfort him back to sleep. It wasn’t as if Phil didn’t know they both had plenty of fodder for their nightmares. 

Dan’s stomach dropped and did this sick-twisty thing whenever he thought too much about the whole thing. He’d managed in the last weeks to push those feelings away, or down. 

Perhaps it was strange that something about how hard Phil took the incident helped Dan find more peace with it. Though maybe peace wasn’t the right word. Perhaps it was the act of being needed because right then, Phil had _really_ needed him. Being outed for the second time in his life meant that the whole thing had struck Phil differently than Dan. Neither of them were dumb; they’d been less than discrete in the past, leaving a trail of photos and tweets, interactions they could never have predicted others would find interesting enough to _save_. Hell, neither of them could ever have predicted the turn their careers would take, or the choices those turns might force them to make. As more opportunities came their way—and especially after Dan dropped out of uni and they’d both committed to making YouTube their career—they’d chosen to operate under a blanket of silence. If they didn’t confirm anything, they always had some kind of plausible deniability. But everything looked a little different on the other side of one massive external fuck up. 

From their bedroom, Dan heard the telltale sound of the door to their extra room opening. Another time check told Dan that Phil had managed to work his way through the small scavenger hunt in rapid fashion. The clues weren’t terrifically hard to solve, after all. Finding a way to write out ten rhyming clues had taken enough of Dan’s time; making them challenging wasn’t really the point. 

The point was to make Phil smile. To give Phil intangible but important gifts. 

Dan arranged himself, cross legged in the middle of a neatly made bed, messing with his hair, fluffing and then patting it back down. 

“Dan?” Phil’s head poked in. He opened the door slowly, hands filled with the little origami hearts Dan had left with every clue. Some fell to the floor. Dan leapt up to grab them before Phil could crush them underfoot, cursing himself. He hadn’t really thought through this part, how Phil was going to carry them _and_ open the door at the same time. The whole thing sort of took away from the ambiance Dan was going for, what with the low lights and candles in a clean room. “What’s all this then?” Phil said when Dan straightened up. His eyes were soft and wide. Dan shrugged and bit his lip. His cheeks were hot and he felt two sizes too big for his skin. He’d planned this whole thing, but hadn’t realized how kind of huge it would actually feel to be inside of it. 

“C’mere,” Dan said, pulling Phil over to the bed. He sat, folding his feet up underneath him, leaving room at the foot of the bed for Phil. They piled the hearts in between them. Phil’s skin was beautiful in the candlelight and the small, inquisitive smile tilting his lips a balm to Dan’s worries. Phil had played along with Dan’s silly game; his shoulders weren’t tight with tension like they’d been so often recently. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Phil asked. He reached over, tugging on the hem of Dan’s shirt. 

“I wanted…” Dan cleared his throat. He’d practiced a whole speech just for this. Or well, he’d written out a bullet point list of the most important things. Now, with Phil in front of him, and the pressure of how vital this moment felt on his shoulders, Dan was tongue tied and desperately nervous. Phil wasn’t always the best at talking about his feelings, and lately even a hint that Dan might want to process what was going on made him clam right up. He didn’t want to _force_ Phil into talking about something if he wasn’t ready. But there was literally no way to offer Phil this gift without addressing it. 

Phil picked up one of the hearts, long fingers picking at it curiously. 

“No, don’t!” Dan put his hands over Phil’s. “Just, er, wait. A second.” 

“All right,” Phil said, flipping his hand over to squeeze Dan’s briefly. 

“So, I’m—I’m gonna ask you to please just, like, hear me out okay?”

Phil’s face stilled. 

“I know you don’t really like to talk about it, and I promise this isn’t me trying to force anything—” 

“Dan.” Reproach shaped the word. 

Dan shook his head. “Please, _please_ , let me do this, okay?” 

Phil sighed, but shrugged his assent. Dan took both of his hands. Phil didn’t resist but his fingers were slack. 

“I know that something was taken from you—”

“Us, Dan. _Us_.” Phil’s words were hard and fast. 

“Well yes,” Dan said. “But I’m talking about something else. More. Also.” 

Phil squinted at him. “O-kay…”

“It’s hard for you, sometimes. To open up,” Dan started. This was something they’d talked about before. Dan didn’t doubt how much Phil loved him, or what he meant to Phil. Phil showed him in a million ways that he did. He just didn’t often sit down and express it explicitly. “And that video...it meant so much to me Phil. You know that. Not just because, well. Because no one’s ever loved me like that. Or even liked me. And hearing you say it…”

This was old ground. Phil knew all of this. The second he’d returned from India, Dan had gone to Phil’s, and kissed him in front of his mum and everything. Alone in his room he’d cried into Phil’s hands, so full up with gratitude and something like disbelief he couldn’t even try to hold it in. 

“I’ve watched that video so many times Phil,” Dan confessed. 

“I know,” Phil said, so quiet and small it hurt in Dan’s chest. “I could see the view count.” 

“I knew then, and I know now, how important that was for you too. And how hard it was, to say those things.” 

“I meant them Dan,” Phil said.

“Hush a moment,” Dan says, squeezing Phil’s fingers. Phil squeezed back. “Some of that stuff...I loved that it was just for us. I know I’ve been, like, pretty public about some of my shit. But having these things that were just you and me...” Dan blinked hard several times. “I’m gonna be mushy with feelings now, ‘kay?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “S’okay.” His voice was tight.

“Our first kiss and when you told me you loved me, all of that...god this is so sappy,” he swiped at his running nose, “I kind of loved the idea of having anniversaries to share. And to do stupid shit for you.” 

Phil wiped at a tear the moment before it dripped off Dan’s face. “You’re right, this is gross,” he said, light-like, then kissed Dan’s nose. Dan laughed. “I know I’m not like, a super romantic guy,” Phil said. “But I did too.” 

“I know.” Dan’s lips were wobbly but the smile was true. “So, I made these.” He picked up a heart and put it in Phil’s hand. 

Phil opened it, brows drawn but sweet lips curved up. 

_The night you called me your boyfriend on Skype by accident_

Phil’s stuttered response to the word slip, and how Dan had wanted to squeal into his pillow and kick his feet, was a memory burned into Dan’s heart. Nothing had been official then. They both knew that there were so many obstacles in their way: distance, age, outness, completely uncertain futures. Despite all of that, despite them dancing around a conversation about what _they_ were to each other when they’d seen each other last, Dan had wanted to be Phil’s boyfriend. He wanted Phil to be his, and had been building his courage to talk about it the next time they saw each other. He was already Phil’s, so completely by then, and _not_ sharing that, when they shared almost everything, had wound up in his throat every night when they spoke. 

He hadn’t said anything that night, letting Phil gather his composure after the word slipped out. Missing Phil had hurt, cramping in his belly. As much as he wanted to say it back, to call Phil his boyfriend for the first time too, he wanted more to be able to kiss Phil as soon as it was official. 

“What’s this?” Phil’s voice drew him back to the present.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” Dan teased. “Keep going and maybe you’ll get it.” 

_Our first official date_

Phil flattened the paper on his knee carefully, tracing the words. He didn’t speak. He opened another heart. 

_Our real first time_

People could speculate all they wanted, and look at old tweets, but no one would ever really know this. They couldn’t know what _they_ considered their first time. In the beginning, Dan loved to overshare online, to tease with glimpses of his private life. Loved being able to shout _he’s mine_ without saying it. But that night, the real night, he’d always kept just for himself. 

_When we both wanted a milkshake but had no money, so we split one, and all I could see was your eyes and I told you you were mine forever_

Dan had blushed hard, pushing down the vulnerable squirming in his stomach, when he wrote that one. He wanted to get Phil to talk, and the only way they’d both do that was if Dan came to him unafraid and open.

“They’re anniversaries,” Phil said, fingers splayed over the papers on the bed, eyes down. 

“Yeah,” Dan said. He worried his lip, teeth sinking into just healing flesh. If Phil were looking at him, he’d thumb the corner of his mouth, a gentle reminder to stop before he drew blood. 

“I’m an ass,” Phil said. He exhaled, but even with it, Dan read the tightening of his shoulders. 

“What? No! Why?” This was the exact opposite of the reaction Dan hoped for. 

“I can’t believe you remember these dates. I mean, I remember some, but...there’s still like five more of these!” 

“That doesn’t make you an ass you spork! I’m just...” Dan squirmed. Surprise snuck up on him sometimes, when he found there was something new, some part of him Phil didn’t know about yet. He’d asked for forever and been promised forever and although he was so, so young, Dan expected it. He wondered sometimes, if years from now there might still be new things to discover. 

He brushed Phil’s hair back where it was falling into his eyes. Phil’s face softened in that lovely way it did for Dan. And yeah, he wanted that. Forever, always learning, always becoming someone new with the person who knew him best. 

“What?” Phil’s eyes held Dan’s, unblinking. 

“I wrote them all down. In my journal.” 

“Oh.” Phil’s eyes closed, then opened, and then his hands were crinkling the origami papers as he leaned in and kissed Dan, hard. Hard enough that Dan had to put a hand on the bed to brace himself. His lips opened for Phil’s automatically. Phil crawled up, pressing into Dan’s space. He bit Dan’s lip and made the smallest broken noise. Dan untangled his feet and stretched his legs out, one hand around the back of Phil’s neck. Consent and assent, a tiny _yes_. Asking Phil to lay down without words, to bring their bodies together in another _yes_. 

_Yes, I’m yours,_ and _yes, I’m here_ and _yes, it’ll be okay as long as we’re facing it together_. 

“I really love you, you know?” Phil whispered, lips wet and breath ragged against Dan’s jaw. 

“Ew,” Dan said, shivering hard when Phil kissed under his chin. “Love you too.”

“This okay?” Phil touched Dan’s neck. It wasn’t always. Sometimes it was too much and sometimes it made Dan’s body crawl. 

“Yes.” He tugged at Phil’s hair to get him to look up. “Everything is okay tonight. Anything.” 

“All right then,” Phil said after a long pause. “You’ll need to be a lot more naked.” 

“Yeah, ‘k, sure,” Dan said, pushing Phil off of him so he could strip his shirt off. Phil knocked his hands away. 

“Let me.” Dan held up his arms when Phil tugged the hem of his shirt up. He lay back, acquiescence a passive gift, lifting his hips when Phil tapped on them so he could work Dan’s trousers and pants off. 

Dan couldn’t remember the last time they’d been like this. Maybe never even. They’d had slow sex before, yes. Especially in the beginning, between rounds of frantic touching, desperate need, greedy fucking when it had been days since they’d seen each other. But even then, when they slowed down, an urgency lingered in every touch. 

Phil’s hands on him now, trailing over his stomach and framing Dan’s hip bones, weren’t urgent, or grasping. Dan felt memorized, like Phil was making a map of his ever changing frame. 

“Don’t move,” Phil whispered. Dan forced himself to stop squirming. 

“Will you at least take your clothes off too?” Dan asked. 

“Oh, yeah,” Phil said. He gathered the hearts, opened and unopened, piling them carefully on the nightstand. He pulled out lube and a condom. Dan’s already racing heart kicked into a fast flutter. He’d said they could do anything, and honestly he’d meant it. But he really, _really_ hoped Phil wanted to fuck him. They didn’t do that often recently. Dan had a lot of complicated feelings and although he loved sex with Phil—and although he wanted Phil pretty much all the time—the last few months he was just too in his head for it. 

Phil asked him not to move, so Dan did his very best to stay still. Phil nudged between his knees, spreading his legs apart. Even that small amount of naked skin touching his was enough to make his cock throb, heavy and needing. 

“Phil,” Dan said, already a little broken. 

“I’m here,” Phil said. He kissed Dan’s hip bone where his hands had just been. Dan gasped at the sharp bite of his teeth. Phils thumbs pressed into the creases of his thighs. He kissed over Dan’s belly and chest, the undersides of his biceps. 

“Phil, please,” Dan said. 

“What? What do you need?” Phil licked the crook of Dan’s elbows, and _holy fuck_ that was a thing. How could that be a thing? How could they not have realized it was a thing?

“Can I touch you? Please?” Dan begged. Every touch Phil gave now felt magnified, too much. Dan needed to share that. Needed to press love into Phil’s skin so they’d be in it together. 

“Yeah,” Phil said. He rolled onto his side, pulling Dan close, hand big and sure at the small of Dan’s back. Dan pressed his thigh between Phil’s legs and tangled his fingers into Phil’s hair. “Slow though, yeah?” 

“Yes.” Dan kissed the edge of Phil’s mouth, right where his smile always began. The corner of his eyes, where he could first read Phil’s emotions as they came. He touched the hollow of Phil’s collarbones with his thumb. He swayed into Phil’s kiss. It was a biting, reckless kiss, but one that went on and on. 

Dan lost himself then, for a long while. Lost himself in a gorgeous, drawn out space where there was no world outside of this one. Pleasure stretched and stretched like taffy. Phil brought him off with his hands and mouth, one long shuddering orgasm that crashed into him, sudden and dizzying, but that lasted and lasted. 

“Sorry, fuck,” he’d gasped, but Phil just wiped his mouth and bit Dan’s thigh and kept biting until he reached Dan’s knee. He pushed Dan onto his belly slowly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil said. Dan bit back a giggle when he kissed the back of his knee. “We have time.” 

They did. And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Phil got Dan off more than once. Usually it was with a laugh or a smug grin, poking Dan’s side, and _you’re insatiable_ kissed into his mouth. _I’m young_ , Dan would say. 

He didn’t say anything now though. Instead he reached up to curl his hands around the edge of the mattress, shuddering when Phil kissed and licked his sacrum. He was crazy sensitive there, and each touch was more and more electric. Face turned to the left, Dan could see the curled up edges of the hearts Phil had opened, and thought of the last one, tucked into the nightstand on his side of the bed, the one that said _Tonight_. The one he’d been unsure of, that he was saving for when he was sure of how this night would go. 

Phil lowered his body, draping himself over Dan. 

“You know how much I love you?” He bit Dan’s ear. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Dan said on a sharp gasp. He closed his eyes and tried his very best to memorize everything about this very moment so that after, when they were curled up and on the edge of sleep, he could reach out and give it to Phil. 

November 15th, 2011. An anniversary no one would ever know. The one with no real name, the one that meant _We’re in this together_ and _I promise forever, even when it’s so hard_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again thank you to each person who has wandered into a WWC any time between now and October and held my hand or encouraged me. Thank you to Daye, chicken, jane, cal, autumn and puddle for listening to me melt down about this for ages, for helping me along, for being excited and encouraging. 
> 
> So many thanks belong to Mandy, because I never would have started this fic at all without you encouraging me to take a chance and believing that I could start writing again. 
> 
> Chapter Title from "Hurricane" by Fleurie


	4. 2012 || in search of silver linings, we discovered gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that 2012 can be a rough year for fans to remember. Taking what we learned from BIG into account, I wanted to write something that addressed difficulties they'd been facing, but how they worked through this together, and how ultimately, this made them stronger as a couple. So while this chapter does have angst, it also has a lot of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more ( _ha!_ ) to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking. Thus far it seems like I have one consistent mistake per chapter, and this week's gem is paper towel vs. kitchen roll!
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

** Rating: T **  
** TW: invasion of privacy, outing, internalized homophobia and discussions about it **  
**July**

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil said, loudly. Too loudly. 

“What?” Dan ripped off his headphones. 

“I’ve been calling you,” Phil snapped back. 

“Okay, well,” Dan turned his back on Phil, “obviously I couldn't hear you, and obviously I’m busy.” 

“What, going at it some more on Tumblr? Got another tweet drafted?” Phil’s words were harsh and sharp in a way they didn’t often get. Dan’s shoulders were so tight pain radiated down his arms and up into his neck. A tension headache simmered. 

“Sod off, will you?” Dan bit back an instinct to tell Phil to fuck off. Dan online, ‘Dan and Phil’ Dan banting, would have. But Dan wouldn’t speak like that to Phil out of anger, ever. Even when he really wanted to. 

“You’re making it worse,” Phil said, much more softly. “Please, Dan, just walk away.” 

Dan didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Instead he put his earphones on again with deliberate slowness. He hoped Phil couldn’t see his hands shaking. He didn’t follow when Phil left, closing the door with a snap behind him. He didn’t ask, _what the fuck?_ , even though they’d _talked_ about this, about their different approaches to interaction with fans, and how Dan’s online persona invited more personal interaction. 

They’d agreed. Phil would evade and continue to make content that was creative and funny and light. Phil was more skilled at answering questions without actually answering than anyone Dan had ever met. They’d thought, with Phil acting as usual, and Dan allowing fans _just_ enough access for them to think they were getting all access, they could drive the narrative that was slowly snowballing. 

Dan bit his lip and balled up his fingers to try to tense the shaking out of them. He felt out of place, not quite right in his skin. Manchester was home; it held the absolute best memories of his life. With a move to London imminent, a commitment to a huge risk just ahead of them, Dan often woke up drowning in anxiety. Dropping out of uni had been an inevitability. Dan knew that now, on the other side of the choice. If only he’d been able to see clearly that law was never going to be the right choice, that trying to do something you hated to please others wouldn’t end well for anyone, he might have saved himself so much stress in the torturous months before he dropped out. He might have saved himself the sleepless nights and anxiety and messy tears. He’d have lost some sort of learning from the experience then, right, though? Not that it mattered, recently, since the anxiety and sleepless nights were back. 

Dropping out was maybe still too fresh to know what the big life lesson there was, but it had been long enough for Dan to know it was the right choice. Just like moving in with Phil was the right choice. Like getting onto the train to Manchester that first time was. 

They’d all led here, to home. 

Phil was _home_. Dan loved Manchester and _oh_ , he was scared of so much, but it would be okay, so long as he had Phil. 

“We’re gonna be starving artists Phil. Doesn’t that fucking scare you?” He’d asked, weeks ago, as they talked about moving to London. 

“Of course it does,” Phil had said. He’d climbed into bed and right into Dan’s space. His fingers, running through Dan’s still damp hair, relaxed him by tiny fractions. “But I really think the risk is worth it.”

“I know,” Dan said. He sighed and closed his eyes, shifting so that his body was touching Phil’s, grounding and comforting. “I can’t help it. Being scared sometimes.” 

“So we’ll be scared together. But we can also believe in ourselves. In what we’re doing?” 

“Even when no one else does?” Dan had said, going for light but laced with bitterness. They’d received so much outside advice, telling them they were risking too much, going to London on a chance. 

“Fuck everyone,” Phil said.

Dan had laughed, loud and gasping. “Naw, mate. Just you.”

Dan remembered then, Phil giggling into kisses, himself melting into touches, coming together with Phil in that way that felt complete. Where, inexplicably, Dan let go of everything. Where Phil was more than just his partner, but where they were inseparable. 

Nowadays Phil still came to Dan; Dan still went to Phil. They were still the embodiment of that togetherness. But it had been a while since either of them had laughed into kisses. 

Moving to London was no longer a ’What if?’. They’d gambled on a chance. So many people told them it was the wrong choice; all they had was their life savings and Phil’s parents as a safety net. Dan didn’t want to linger on the consequences of failure, but his anxiety had its own agenda. The thought of having to go back to his parents after all that struggle to break free and prove that he was making the right choices— _no_. No. It wouldn’t do. Manchester felt like home because he was with Phil. London would be home too, as long as he had Phil. They’d have to make it work was all. 

And now, there was so much more pressure. Pressure from fans to reveal their secrets. Pressure to find the right way to protect their relationship from constant intrusion. Pressure to keep their relationship a secret because so much hung in the balance; would the BBC want them if they knew? Would their channels and brand continue to grow? 

_What if?_ What ifs haunted Dan. What if all of this somehow broke them? What if things went so wrong, he’d lose home too? It had been so long since they’d giggled into kisses, or laughed as they came, or fallen asleep and woken up still smiling. 

He didn’t tell Phil how often he woke up terrified and stayed terrified all day. How his brain sometimes created this awful feedback loop, fear of fear and anxiety keeping him up at night. How he had to spend so much time reminding himself that his mind lied to him, how he was so emotionally exhausted he sometimes forgot how to maintain the balance between public and private self they’d agreed on. Phil took so much on himself. He’d try to take this too. And there _were_ good days. So many of them, more than days like this one, where he’d woken to the pins and needles of anxiety before he’d even been fully aware of what day it was. Dan had to find a way to keep those days in his mind and heart when he was at his worst.To remind himself that the good days outpaced the bad. 

Dan worried that adding his fears to Phil’s anxieties would only mean they’d never find peace or enjoy their private happiness. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep sometimes, and maybe he’d do dumb shit or lash out because he was too tired to filter himself. But there were some things he had to shoulder alone. And so he stayed at his desk, pretending to listen to music and work. Earbuds in but no music on, eyes tracking the same email over and over, Dan lingered as long as he could. He came out when his stomach insisted he eat or perish. Dusk darkened the corners of the kitchen. Phil had pizza set out on the breakfast bar. 

“When’d you get that?” Dan asked. Phil whirled around, hand to heart, spilling the Coke he’d been pouring into a glass. 

“Shit!” Phil gasped. Dan grabbed some kitchen roll quickly, helping Phil mop up the mess. He lingered, kneeling on the floor, unsure how to even start a conversation. Phil rarely ordered pizza on his own without Dan’s prompting. It was probably a peace offering. One Dan didn’t deserve, because he was the one in the wrong. 

“C’mon then,” Phil said, holding a hand out to Dan to help him up. “It just came, I was about to get you.” 

“Yeah?” Dan didn’t let go of Phil’s hand, needing that connection. Phil wasn’t smiling; his face was carefully neutral. Dan couldn’t remember the last time Phil had looked like that for him, around him. Still, he held Dan’s hand. 

Phil let Dan plate the pizza for him. He took the folded kitchen roll Dan offered. Sat on the couch when Dan shooed him out of the kitchen. 

“You don’t have to serve me Dan,” Phil said, tracking Dan’s nervous hovering. 

“I—that’s not…” Dan sat too, food on his lap. He picked at the crust. He felt like he owed Phil something, even if he wasn’t sure quite _what_. Phil didn’t press him. Instead he flipped the telly to Doctor Who. They sank into silence, eating without talking or looking at each other. Dan wanted to slump over, to press his shoulder against Phil. Their couch was so tiny that the smallest movement would bring them into contact. But the tiny space between them was insurmountably large. 

Phil paused at the credit scene. Empty plates still in hand, neither spoke for a long time. 

“Let me get that,” Dan said, finally, when the tension became too unbearable. 

“You don’t have to serve me,” Phil said again, more insistently. 

“Okay,” Dan said, low voiced and small. He still cleared the detritus of their dinner, washed his hands and took a few deep breaths before returning to Phil. 

“I’m sorry I spoke to you that way,” Dan said, mostly addressing his interlocked fingers, only glancing up to Phil’s face once. It was still disconcertingly neutral.

“Thank you,” Phil said. Not _it’s okay_ or _I understand_. No, because it wasn’t. “I’m sorry too.” 

Dan frowned. “For what?” 

“That was quite the tweet, Dan.” Phil said. “But I still shouldn’t have come at you how I did. I was upset.” 

“Why?” Dan looked up then. Phil’s eyebrows rose, a tiny tell, surprise quickly masked again. “Phil, stop.”

“Stop what?” 

“Stop hiding what you’re feeling from me. I hate when you do that.” 

“I don’t—it’s not—” Phil stuttered, took a deep breath and forced his face and shoulders to relax. “Does it matter so much, what my face is doing?” 

“When you don’t let me see how you’re feeling, even if you’re mad, it’s like you’ve taken yourself away. And then everything is all wrong. I’d rather know you’re pissed because you think I’m being an arsehole than have you put up a wall.” 

“It’s not easy, you know,” Phil said. “Not all of us feel comfortable letting everyone know what the hell we’re feeling, spilling it all out everywhere.” 

“Since when am I a part of ‘everyone,’ Phil?” Dan actively battled tears. “Since when do you actually think I’m letting anyone but you really know what I’m feeling?” 

Phil’s eyes flicked to the window, down to the table, and then at his hands, before picking Dan’s up. He looked everywhere but at Dan. 

“When I asked why you’re upset, it wasn’t like...I mean I guess I know I shouldn’t tweet shit when I’m mad,” Dan said.

“It’s not just that,” Phil said. “It hurt _me_ too.” 

“What? Why?” 

Phil drew his hands back. “It’s nothing; it’s a stupid thing.” He started to rise; Dan grabbed him by the arm to pull him back. 

“No, Phil come on. Tell me.” 

“There’s no good way to say it Dan.” 

“What does that mean?” Fear knotted tight in his core. 

“Haven’t you ever felt something but known it doesn’t make sense?” Phil asked. “Or felt something even though you know on some level you shouldn’t?”

“I guess? I’m not sure I follow.” 

“It feels like you’re ashamed of me,” Phil blurted out. “I know _they_ don’t know, but it’s like, like it’s so awful, being...whatever you are—”

“ _Phil_.” 

“No, I know Dan. I know it’s not fair to feel that. I know you don’t want to label yourself. But don’t you see what you’re implying? That liking women, or whatever, normalizes you? By default the opposite is bad? That when you say these things, you’re implying there’s something wrong with _me_? With being gay?”

“It isn’t like that,” Dan said. His fingers began to tingle. Dread and fear turned his stomach more insistently, even as anger simmered. “I don’t think that at all! Of course there’s nothing wrong with that!”

“No, but Dan, _it is_ like that. Even when you don’t do it on purpose, that’s what it means.” 

“I’m not _ashamed_ of you,” Dan bit out. “You _know_ that.” 

“Really? Are you sure?” Phil’s features hardened, words sharp, jabbing hard into Dan’s skin, ice spreading straight to his heart. “Because you’re ashamed of _something_. Maybe it’s not me, as a person, but it has to do with a big part of who I am. Something _I’m_ not ashamed of.”

“Phil...” Dan closed his eyes. Angry and hurt and afraid and confused, Dan stood and walked back to the bedrooms before he said something he’d regret. There was nothing good he could say. Not without making it worse. Dan wanted to defend himself, but he wouldn’t know where to begin. He didn’t want to think Phil was right. He didn’t want to parse the layers of meaning Phil was reading into a few simple words. 

Phil didn’t follow him.

* * *

Phil woke too warm, weighed down, still sleep-fuzzy and disoriented. He blinked hard, reaching for his glasses by instinct only to realize he was blocked by Dan, who was pressed close to Phil’s side with one arm and one leg thrown over him. 

Phil had gone to bed alone. After their argument Dan had closed himself in the spare bedroom. He’d waited hours to see if Dan would come back out, come to bed with him. Eventually he’d fallen asleep, too tired to wait up, too upset to go get Dan himself. Phil hated going to bed with unresolved arguments hanging over their heads, but it happened sometimes. This aspect of partnership was one he hadn’t anticipated. Over and over, everywhere, people touted a ‘don’t go to bed angry’ message. He and Dan worked on that, tried not to go to bed when they were _really_ angry. But not everything could be resolved so quickly. Sometimes resentment, misunderstanding, or hurt feelings lingered. Some things took time to heal. 

_Trust it’ll be okay_. That’s what he wanted to tell the world. It was okay to go to bed upset when you knew your partner would still be there in the morning. If you wanted a lifetime with someone, Phil figured, it would be shit sometimes. The point was that good would outweigh the bad.

Dan tried, Phil knew, to throw himself into that trust. But he was young. Phil felt it most at times like these. When Dan got scared, when the small voice neither of them were ever fully successful in squashing told Dan he was worthless, that he didn’t deserve good things, or to be loved. Phil had spent these years trying to show Dan how much good he deserved. Dan tried to tell himself, in good moments too: leaving himself notes in his journal at night, reaffirming with Phil that everything would be okay during the day. 

Last night had been a mess, and Phil was still frustrated. He knew very well that Dan knew what it was like to have contradictory, messy feelings. 

Phil had sat up in bed the night before long enough to regret the way he’d spoken to Dan. The way he’d let his own hurt feelings rule his approach. The thing was, Phil had spent too much time in his life being ashamed of being gay. And he wasn’t anymore, not at all. He loved that about himself. But Dan’s relationship with shame and fear was so much more tangled and complex. It scared Phil; it felt sharp and dangerous and unpredictable.

Phil looked down at Dan, at the way his fingers were fisted even in sleep. He tried to ease them, to relax Dan’s hand into his. Dan woke with a start, almost bashing his head into Phil’s nose. Tension thrummed through his muscles for a moment before he realized where he was. He relaxed, boneless, onto Phil, hitching himself up to bury his face into the curve of Phil’s neck. 

“You still mad?” he slurred. 

“I wasn’t mad Dan,” Phil said with a sigh. “I was hurt.” Dan’s fingers tapped a rhythm against Phil’s ribcage. Phil let himself relax, knowing this meant Dan was just thinking through what he wanted to say, organizing his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry for it all. I know...I know what you meant now. About feeling two things at once or whatever.” 

“Yeah?” Phil’s lips brushed against Dan’s curls when he moved his head just so. He breathed Dan in, the way he smelled in the morning, more _him_ than any packaged scent. 

“I don’t want to put a name on it. I just want to love you. I just want to be with you like we are. Isn’t that enough?” 

“Of course,” Phil said. “But I _was_ hurt. I get to tell you when you do something that hurts me without it being about you.” 

Disconcerting silence followed his statement. It stretched and stretched until finally, Dan propped himself up on an elbow. He traced Phil’s lips and eyebrows with his free hand. The tenor of the quiet changed. 

“I’m so sorry Phil. I never want to hurt you. You know that right?”

Phil swallowed. “Yeah.” 

Dan closed his eyes, one hand flat against Phil’s cheek. He was trembling. “I’m a mess and I’m scared and this is all too much sometimes.” 

“Too much?” Phil felt fear, real fear, for the first time in a long time. 

“Not us. Not you,” Dan said. “Most of the time, not at all. Sometimes when I get scared, I don’t even know why. It’s this, this—I don’t know. It’s deep and I can’t control it. I hate that. When I can’t control it. I feel trapped, and like I’ve never escaped. And I have. _I have_ , right?” 

“You have. Dan, look at me,” Phil said. He put a hand on Dan’s cheek. They held each other in their palms, between eyes that were steady, even as Dan’s shone with tears. “You’re not there anymore. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever again.” 

“I know,” Dan said. Phil caught his tears with his thumb. “I know you won’t let anything hurt me that you can stop. But you can’t fix everything. You can’t—” Dan closed his eyes.

“Dan, you have to promise me something. You wouldn’t hurt yourself, would you?” Phil’s breath was shaking, his heart wild when it dawned on him. There were demons in Dan’s life, in his history, that wouldn’t let go, that had claws deep in his heart. Phil often felt impotent, unable to pull Dan from his down periods, unable to love the complex shame and confusion out of him. But he’d never before, not once, been afraid that Dan would hurt himself. 

“ _Phil,_ ” Dan said, so softly. 

“I need to know,” Phil said urgently. “Don’t try to protect me.” 

“I’m not. I don’t, not like that. When I say you can’t stop me hurting, I mean like, in my head. I can’t stop it sometimes. It’s just there, you know?” 

Phil took a shuddering breath, and then another. Lately, he was the one to hold Dan. He was the one to hold in and hold back, to process alone or with Dan without falling apart. 

Morning spilled through their windows and in their bed were three years of promises Phil grasped at even as he fell apart. 

“Promise me,” he said. “Promise you’ll ever tell me if you—if you get there or think about—I—I just—” 

“Shhh,” Dan tugged and rolled until Phil was the one burrowed against him. “I promise Phil. I promise. I’ve never broken a promise have I?” 

And he hadn’t. Neither of them ever had. It was that, and that alone, that held Phil together in that moment and the ones after. 

**October**

Once Phil’s liveshow was over, Dan fled the room as fast as he could. First he hid in the bathroom, where he wasted a good ten minutes reminding himself that he was probably freaking out over nothing. When that didn’t work, he quietly made his way to his desk. Sometimes he could lose himself in the process of editing. Dan easily lost hours of his life hunched over a desk, watching and rewatching, fiddling, cutting and rearranging footage in order to make the most perfect video he could. 

Which was never. Nothing was ever perfect, but he’d learned to post when he felt okay about something. He was still learning to sit with the anxiety and dread when he inevitably found flaws in a posted video. 

Tonight though, nothing worked. His heart wasn’t in it and he’d just have to re-do anything he put together. He kept playing Phil’s liveshow over and over in his head. Almost as soon as they’d finished the game, Dan realized his refusal to come closer to Phil had done nothing but highlight the ways in which Dan was very obviously changing his behaviors.

Fear crawled like spiders up his spine. How long could he do this? How often could he fuck up when trying to fix something? How many times could he let fear control his reactions at Phil’s expense? It was such a small thing really. Their viewers made their own narratives of everything and anything—Dan couldn't control what they would pick up on, or how they’d interpret it. But it mattered, more than anything, how his actions might make Phil feel. 

Fear never left anymore. Fear sat with him. Fear woke him up at night, heart racing and skin tacky with sweat. Fear squatted, sometimes quiet, but always there, even under all the best days. 

The worst was not knowing. Dan didn’t always know _why_ he was afraid. He couldn’t explain why it would hit him, couldn’t tell when it would paralyze him or make him act oddly. All he knew was that he felt _wrong_ in a way he never had before. 

Fear made him pull away from everyone. Honest connections with anyone other than Phil terrified Dan. 

He was living in a state of high alert, of hypervigilance. Scared that if anyone really saw him, really knew him, then they’d see what a broken, messy, hurting boy he was. And if they saw it, he’d have to look at it too.

 _It’s okay_ he’d tell himself. _I have Phil_. 

_I have Phil_.

Even when he didn’t want to burden Phil because he knew he’d been a burden so many times, even when he didn’t have any words to express or capture the wrongness of how he was feeling, Phil _knew_ him. Phil loved him, messy and broken and hurting. Phil wasn’t a risk. 

When he came back into the living room, he found Phil still, staring blankly at a silent TV. 

“Phil?” Dan poked Phil’s calf with his toes, stretching out on the couch facing him. He wanted to tuck his toes under Phil’s thigh but there was something pulled up tight about Phil’s body. Phil was rarely still. Dan’s stomach dropped. A heavy ache settled in his chest. 

“Yeah?” Phil put a hand on Dan’s foot, giving him a facsimile of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, I just—” 

“Don’t.” Phil ran his fingers up Dan’s calf and squeezed his knee. Dan squirmed away, biting down the automatic laugh the tickling elicited. Phil’s tone asked Dan to drop it and his hands were meant to comfort him. Through the tension snapping tight in his stomach, tension that was not supposed to spill into their space—the _real_ Dan and Phil, not the ‘Dan and Phil, internet entertainers’ space—that comfort was muted, quieted by anxieties he couldn’t articulate. 

Some of those fears were simple. He never wanted to hurt Phil. But more and more eyes were turning toward them. Every move he made could become fodder, a weapon, might be turned against him. Dan loved his followers; he loved making them happy. He loved seeing evidence of that. He had always loved feeling connected to them. 

But there was that small group. Statistically a tiny percentage of his followers whose voices, inexplicably, grew louder and louder when he ran into them in the tags, when they were brought to his attention. There were days when their voices were irritants, a splinter under his skin he constantly worried at, picked at. Other days, it was so sharp and bright he couldn’t even sleep. There was a lot more at stake than their viewers realized, opportunities that were precarious. 

He didn’t understand why they weren’t listening to his words, how they didn’t seem to understand him as a human who had asked them to see him, _now_ , not to pick over and through his past. Not even just 2009 Dan, not danisnotonfire learning how to navigate his creativity and his voice. Not the messy boy at a crossroads, one who had no idea what lay ahead. The one who put too much out in the world, on the internet, because they’d both been too stupid to know better. 

Dan knew better now. Dan’s work had improved so much; that’s what he wanted them to see. 

Phil’s eyes were still steady on his. 

“I was up late,” Dan said. “They found more pictures, they’re going through my friend’s old pictures on Facebook. I can’t...it felt like I couldn’t breathe last night. It was all I could think about.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Phil asked.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Dan said. “ _I know._ I know you’re going to tell me I’m not a bother but—” 

“Dan, shut up.” Phil’s face was kind even if his tone was stern. “Let me say what I want to say without trying to tell me what it is.” Dan huffed a laugh.

“Great speech, bub. You know as well as I do that I’m probably right.” Because it was easy, with them. Half the time they did know what the other was going to say. 

“Dan, if I were up last night, freaking out, wouldn’t you want to know?” 

Dan bit his nails, eyes averted. Damn Phil and his logic. “That’s different.”

“Why?” Phil poked Dan’s cheek. “Because it’s someone else caring for you?” 

Dan didn’t answer. Maybe, a little, Phil was right. But also, he didn’t want to tell Phil how his fears were a cold pit in his stomach, one that grew and grew until some days he couldn’t breathe. That it wasn’t the fans really, but _something_. Something intangible that kept getting prodded. That he didn’t want to listen to, but that wanted to shout his walls down. 

He didn’t want to tell Phil how he hated those days, didn’t want to bring them into their life because it was so _good_. Because even years later, Phil still made him happier than Dan thought possible. What was more, it wasn’t just that Phil made him happier. It wasn’t like at first, when Dan’s happiness was literally tangled up in Phil, when he clung to every moment, every word and touch. When Phil was literally the center of everything. When what saved his life was Phil alone. 

Generally, Dan was happier now in a way he honestly thought he would never have, didn’t deserve. Where his life was so many miles from what it had been. Yeah, there were still days he would trip into a dark place, where an old familiar self-loathing would rear its head. When he woke up to grey and grey and grey and couldn’t make himself feel or see colors. When even his tether to Phil felt lesser. But he still got up when he was needed. He could force himself out of bed to work. He could make himself pretend when he needed to. He knew he’d crawl out of it eventually.

Phil taught him about hope, and Dan held that so, so close. Hope got him through until colors seeped back in. Hope whispered at night, that one day it would be over. That he just had to hold on. 

“I’m sorry I was a twat,” he said instead. 

“So you didn’t want to sit next to me, whatever.” Phil said. “I mean, if they were half as turned on by those high notes as I was…” 

“ _Phil_.”

“I told you, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Dan held a hand up, forestalling Phil’s next round of excusing Dan’s behavior for him. “You know I don’t care about how it looked to them, really. I know it’s not about me.” 

Phil ignored him. “I can’t stand not knowing how to help you. I hate…”

Dan waited, stilling himself in a silence that grew until it felt like he might snap. 

“It’s hard Dan, to watch something and not know how to help. I wish I could...I don’t know…” Misery laced the words. Phil’s hair was wild from running his hands through it like he did when he was fretting. “If I could stop the world hurting you, I would.” 

“I know,” Dan said, so softly. He didn’t know how to express himself, how to say, _you saved me, but I can’t keep letting you save me_ and _I’m still scared I’ll ruin you_? 

He shifted to his knees, wide palm guiding Phil’s mouth to a kiss meant to comfort and to ground. Phil’s hand slid up under his shirt, gripping his hip. It hurt almost, how easily Phil came back to him, even when Dan fucked up. Even when Dan’s fear made him do stupid shit. Even when his instinct to protect Phil went sideways and backfired. Dan knew he was a livewire, that he sometimes still defaulted toward hastiness, acting first and reflecting later. And he hated that; hated it in a complicated way he couldn’t understand. He knew, on a rational level, that his tone and humor weren’t for everyone. There would always be people who took everything the wrong way. Somehow, knowing that intellectually—hell, being told this by friends, by Phil—didn’t change the moments deep at night when that part of him that ached to be understood, to be liked, to be accepted, started to believe those voices. 

Phil pulled away; Dan actively stopped himself from chasing.

“What do you want?” Dan asked. He didn’t mean sex, necessarily. He was anxious for Phil to know that Dan was by his side, that despite all of the noise, even the noise in his head, he was always Phil’s. 

Phil’s lips quirked up. He leaned in and nipped at Dan’s lower lip and then whispered, “Takeaway.” 

Dan snorted, giggling against Phil’s mouth. He pulled away with a sigh. “Fine, but you’re getting it when the delivery is here.” 

“No I’m not,” Phil said. “It’s your turn.”

“Oi, since when are turns a thing?” Dan climbed onto Phil’s lap to kiss him properly. 

“Um, always. And you said anything I want,” Phil whined, tucking his face into the crook of Dan’s neck. Dan shivered and suppressed the urge to shy away from the too-much of it. 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“But you thought it!” Phil was still tucked up against him, his breath and lips tickling. Dan squirmed away even as he draped his arms over Phil’s shoulder. 

“Rat,” he says, fond and exasperated. “It’s not fair, knowing what I’m thinking! Where’s the surprise in that? And didn’t you just say that wasn’t fair?” 

“It only doesn’t count when it’s you,” he said. “As the older and wiser of us—”

“Oh, yes, well I’ve always been shit at respecting my elders, so that’s okay then,” Dan said. He ducked away, then went giggling into the kiss Phil pulled him in for. 

“Shut up, you. You know you like it.” Phil leaned back into a slouch, head against the back cushion and eyes heavy. It was an assessing look. Dan resisted the urge to squirm. Some days, he preened under this gaze, loved being the center of Phil’s attention, being so seen and loved and wanted. Others it was harder. There were days when Dan actively challenged himself to accept that gaze. He’d spent so much time—too much time—in the first months of their relationship working to keep Phil’s eyes and attention on him. That had been a grasping thing, a fear of losing something amazing. Of not understanding that the attention he wanted came from disliking himself. 

The more Phil saw him, the more Dan let himself be seen, the harder it could be at times. Not to shield himself with a come on, with sex, when what Phil wanted was another intimacy.

He framed Phil’s face with his hands. Everything outside this bubble was wrong. Well, no, lots of things. Phil, so beautiful it hurt, wanted Dan in complicated ways. Dan never knew the ways one human could want another until he’d had Phil. He understood that Phil wanted different things, intimacies there was no language for. That even as one, even so connected, they would always be their own people, have different needs sometimes. Three years with a person seemed long, but the eighteen years before he had Phil, so many of which he spent achingly lonely and lost, still lingered like muscle memory. Phil hadn’t lived any of that. Dan couldn’t wrap his mind around who he might be, had he lived Phil’s life. 

Phil squeezed his waist, a _what are you waiting for_ , a _please kiss me now_ gesture, and so Dan did, trusting Phil to ask for what he needed, hoping he could give it. 

“Fine,” he said eventually, “I’ll get the door. But I expect compensation.”

“Aye-aye,” Phil said with a two-fingered salute that parodied Dan’s internet greeting. 

“Arsehole.” Dan laughed, pinched Phil’s sides, and slipped off his lap before retaliation could follow.

* * *

“It’s good, yeah?” Dan asked.

“Mhm.” Phil didn’t bother to open his eyes, swiping half heartedly at the string of cheese that clung to his chin. 

“You’re disgusting,” Dan said, handing him a napkin. 

“I can’t help it! When you’re putting something this good in your mouth, there’s no place for manners.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re plenty polite when you’ve got me in your mouth. All ‘Please can I suck you off Dan?’ and ‘Thank you so much for—’”

“Shut up, who’s disgusting now?” Phil laughed, mouth full of pizza. 

“Please, spoon,” Dan said, smiling fondly even into the insult. “You love it.”

“Yes. I don’t even know what we’re talking about but, yes, I always love you.” 

“Oi! There’s no need to be actually gross. Get your feelings out of here!” Dan threw his balled up napkin at Phil. It was used, therefore really gross, but Phil didn’t have the heart to keep the banter up, not when all he realistically had in him was a smile. Everyday it seemed Dan’s body changed, only secretly. Phil would wake up and Dan would shuffle into his space with a sleepy smile and Phil would think, _who is this boy?_ , even though Dan wasn’t really a boy. He was always Dan, always familiar and beautiful and a chaotic contradiction of familiarity and growth. All the time now it was like Dan was changing, pressing out from the inside, growing into himself. Into his body, into his heart. 

He’d never tell Dan that. All he’d get for it was a smart comment about puberty finally coming and fake gagging noises over the overflow of sentiment. Even if Phil kind of wanted to, honestly, because he was feeling a whole lot of fondness. Only fondness wasn’t quite the word for the way Dan vibrated, deep and low and lovely, under Phil’s skin and in his heart. 

God he really was gross. 

“Anyway, I wasn’t talking about the pizza, when I said it’s good,” Dan said. 

“Blasphemy. You can’t talk about anything being better than this pizza in the room with the pizza. There’s nothing better. And you’ll hurt its feelings.” 

“You’re weird,” Dan said flatly. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Only you about fourteen times a day,” Phil said around a huge mouthful of pizza. He ignored the face Dan pulled. 

“Please, your mum thanked me last time we visited for taking your weird arse off of her hands.” 

“She did no such thing!” Phil swallowed, poked Dan’s dimple to irritate him. “Besides, don’t talk to my mum about my bum.” 

Dan about fell over laughing, which set Phil off, which only led to the two of them snorting with laughter, breathless and ignoring their cooling pizza. With superhuman effort and about twenty _shut up_ , _no, you shut up_ ’s, Dan managed to calm down enough to push the pizza box out of the way, crawl into Phil’s lap and thumb some sauce from the corner of his mouth. 

“W-what was it, then?” Phil managed between tapering laughter and light kisses. 

“What was what?” Dan murmured from the hollow behind Phil’s ear. 

“What’s good?” 

“Oh!” Dan pulled back far enough Phil had to grip his waist for fear he’d topple them over. “Everything.” 

“Everything?” Phil’s eyebrow shot up before he had the wherewithal to school it. Thankfully, Dan didn’t take his words to heart or as an opportunity to begin spiraling back into his previous mood. 

“Everything,” he said. “Life. Us. I mean, we’re living on nothing and really shouldn’t have spent the money on the pizza, I reckon, and _wow_ the sex has gone downhill—”

“Hey! I resent that, were you not there the other night?”

“No, but who was he, tell me more.” Dan dimpled at him when Phil swatted his bottom. “But seriously, I want you to know, I _know_ things are so much better. Even if sometimes I forget or I don’t know, act like I’m not grateful, or whatever.” 

“Dan, everyone has bad days. It doesn’t mean the’re taking the good for granted. I know you don’t. And yes. Really. It’s good.” 

“Though I did have a point about the sex,” Dan interrupted without missing a beat. “ _Vegas_ , Phil. I think we literally peaked.” 

“Several times,” Phil said, lips right up close to Dan’s. “You in particular if I remember.”

“Mhm,” Dan hummed against Phil’s lips, and then let Phil draw him into several hungry, silent kisses. 

“Must be so hard,” Dan said, snorting a giggle when he realized what a terrible pun that was. “Being so much older, missing out on all of the extra orgasms.”

“Ah, yes, the bloom of youth that faded before I’d even met you.” Phil bit the tip of Dan’s nose in retaliation. 

“Wow.” Dan pulled away, nose wrinkled. “Isn’t it weird, that I don’t really think about it like that ever?”

“You’re the one who just made the age joke!”

“No, I mean, like, I’m younger now than you were when we met. You didn’t seem that old to me.” 

“I can’t tell if you are complimenting past-me or insulting current-me or some sort of mix?”

“While I’d love to take credit for that, no. I mean. I feel so much older than you seemed. Wait, that still sounds insulting.”

Phil tried not to frown. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Dan said, but his smile was just a touch less bright. 

“I’ve aged you, have I?” Phil tried to joke. 

“Let’s not do this, this way,” Dan said, squaring his shoulders. “It wasn’t a bad thing. I had no idea what it was like to be twenty-two and to have gone off to school or what it was like to worry about actual bills and feeding myself, that’s all. I didn’t know enough to think about it, much less that you, like, lived in that world. I’m not making sense. Let’s go back to the kissing.” 

“Wait,” Phil said. He still kissed Dan, very softly, to buy himself some time to think. “Yeah, I mean. I guess. But no?” 

“Phil Lester, king of commitment to a sentiment everybody,” Dan deadpanned. 

“Shut up,” Phil said. “I just mean, like, yeah there were some things I’d experienced that I guess were ‘adult’ things.” Phil put his hands down at Dan’s smirk. Dan was forever laughing at his air quotes. “But honestly Dan, I don’t know how I would even have coped with the last three years if they had happened to me at your age. Which sounds patronizing. But.” 

“No,” Dan said. He sighed, leaning into Phil’s body, all six foot plus melting against him. “It doesn’t. Besides, you were alone then.” He froze, then continued in a smaller, sweeter voice he tucked into Phil’s ear. “I just mean, you didn’t have me. And you do now. I had you for all of it.” 

“Hm.” Phil closed his eyes and breathed Dan in, felt the bump and sway of each vertebra, of the curve of spine and shoulder. “Always.” 

Dan nodded, face smooshed against Phil’s neck. “Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again thank you to each person who has wandered into a WWC any time between now and October and held my hand or encouraged me. Thank you to Daye, chicken, jane, cal, autumn and puddle for listening to me melt down about this for ages, for helping me along, for being excited and encouraging. 
> 
> So many thanks belong to Mandy, because I never would have started this fic at all without you encouraging me to take a chance and believing that I could start writing again. 
> 
> Title from "Sinners" by Lauren Aquilina


	5. 2013 || sometimes we break so beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Phil learn how to cope, individually and together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more ( _ha!_ ) to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking and cheerleading.
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

** R:  **  
** Tw: depression, anxiety, anxiety attack, processing parental illness (cancer). This chapter deals with how they together and individually try to process Nigel's cancer diagnosis. It does not approach Nigel's illness in a graphic or on screen manner. If you are concerned about how this is handled, you can always message. If this is a trigger for you, you can skip to the October section of the story. **

**February**

The thing was, Dan had been through a lot in his life. There were things, moments and choices he actively worked to erase from his memory and repress. And sometimes, when he was at his most tired, or flat on his face struggling to understand what happiness meant or looked like when everything was inherently meaningless, he couldn’t help but flashback to some of those moments. 

Phil’s pain hurt more than any of that. It eclipsed Dan’s, bigger than he knew how to cope with. Phil’s pain was a language he had no concept or context for. He couldn’t erase it, or fix it. In the three weeks since Phil’s parents had broken the news of Nigel’s cancer, there were days he barely recognized Phil. Phil, whose greatest fears included death, losing someone he loved, watching those he loved age. Who carried, always, with him the memory of losing his friend in York.

Phil who’d struggled with anxiety even before they’d found out about Nigel’s cancer.

Phil whose moods now changed so rapidly Dan hardly knew what to do, how to recognize his best friend and partner. 

“Phil,” Dan said, crouched in front of Phil on the floor by the couch. “Phil, love, look at me.” 

Phil shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, breaths coming faster, much too fast. 

“Here,” Dan said, taking Phil’s hand in his and putting it over his diaphragm. “Feel me breathing. Can you feel it?” Phil nodded. “All right, I want you to try to breathe with me, okay?” 

Dan had, in a panic born of watching helplessly as Phil had an anxiety attack two weeks prior, googled how to help someone through an episode. These panic attacks were so much worse than any Phil had experienced before; nothing Dan had learned in the last few years had prepared him for this. He’d found almost too much advice, but right in this moment could hardly remember any of it. He took a deep breath, but could only remember bits of advice given. Mostly he remembered something about triangle breathing.

“I’m going to take a breath for four counts, pause for four, and exhale for four. I want you to imagine you’re making a triangle.” He was relatively sure Phil wasn’t absorbing what he was saying. Still, Phil made a tiny noise, one Dan chose to take for assent. He kept one hand over Phil’s on his belly, and then put the other on Phil’s shoulder, wishing he could bring him closer, hold him through this. Instead he took a deep breath, making sure to breathe from his diaphragm. “In.” He counted to four in his head as he inhaled. “Pause.” He counted again, and then exhaled for the same number of beats. 

He cycled through four times before Phil’s breathing began to slow, catching on to the rhythm. 

“Good, you’re doing so good. Focus on the triangle we’re making. Can you do that?” 

Phil nodded, and Dan kept breathing, coaching him until Phil’s breathing was slow and steady, until his beautiful eyes opened again, watery and tired and ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispered. 

“No, no.” Dan moved in a tiny bit closer, aching to give comfort, hoping he wasn’t crowding. Phil pulled him in even more, holding on so tight he squeezed the breath out of him. 

“What do I do?” Phil asked, plaintive and so small, so unrecognizable, into Dan’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry, I wish I knew.” Dan kissed the side of Phil’s head, inhaling his so _Phil_ scent, the one that meant _home_ and _comfort_ and _complete_. “I’m so sorry Phil.” Helplessness was so familiar to Dan, but only for himself. His inability to fix this for Phil triggered something deep, the echo of something aching and broken within himself. There were nights, the ones when Phil managed to sleep, when Dan lay awake trying so hard not to touch, not to burrow so deep next to Phil to seek comfort from his own fears. When he had to consider for himself how he would grieve too, if the worst happened. Nigel wasn’t his father, but Dan loved him too. 

Those were the only nights Dan let himself cry, silent tears dripping onto his pillow, so scared for Phil, for Nigel, for their family. 

Dan had spent years of his life struggling with failure, with coming to grips with all of the things he’d done and gotten wrong. He could not, no matter how hard he tried, shake the knowledge that ultimately, he was failing Phil somehow.

* * *

Dan woke the next day to silence, bed cold next to him. The flat was utterly silent. Eventually he found Phil on the balcony, cradling coffee and staring at the sky. He didn’t move when Dan opened the door. It was fucking cold, but Phil was only in pyjama bottoms and a jumper. 

“Phil?” Dan winced at the cold against his bare feet. 

“Hey,” Phil said. He didn’t turn to look at Dan. He spoke so softly Dan barely caught it. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Dan wrapped his arms around himself. Phil didn’t respond. Gut tight with cramping worry, Dan retreated into the flat. He dressed warmly, then grabbed a blanket. Back on the balcony, he wrapped it around Phil as best he could. Phil didn’t move.

“You should go inside,” Phil said after long minutes. “You’ll get cold.” 

“Well, you will too,” Dan countered. Phil shook his head, still not looking at him. 

“You should go inside.” He spoke with a finality that made Dan flinch, in a tone Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. 

“Phil,” he tried again, softly. 

“Please, Dan.” Weary or resigned, maybe a tinge annoyed, Phil finally looked at him. It was disorienting, to see that look on Phil, directed at him. “Could you just leave me be for a bit?” 

Dan sucked in his lower lip but tried to otherwise keep his face neutral, despite the actual sensation of blood draining and heart dropping. Phil had never, _ever_ made him feel like that, not even during their worst fights. Then again, it didn’t really matter, did it? Being hurt when Phil was hurting made him a bit of a twat, didn’t it? 

“‘K,” he said. “If you’re sure. I’ll—” he gestured behind himself. “I’ll be just here. If you need—” he couldn’t finish, had to clear his throat. Phil’s smile was so forced it hurt Dan to look at it. 

“I know.” 

**July**

“You know what I can’t unthink?” Phil asked, speaking words like a hush in the darkness. There had been a quiet that was not _really_ quiet in him all day. There was, Dan found, usually an unsettled off-ness to Phil whenever he saw his family these days. With his mother visiting them in London, Phil was like a little kid, all over the place, too energetic, trying too hard some moments. But then he’d be withdrawn and brooding when she wasn’t in the room. 

“What?” Dan buried his face in the pillow to hide a yawn. Phil’s fingers tapped a thinking beat, drumming on his own bare chest. Dan put his hand on Phil’s belly. He closed his eyes and wished they knew Morse code, that he could read all of the things Phil was keeping locked away inside. That he could hear the language of fear and helplessness and loneliness behind the fortress Phil was daily building around himself. 

Phil wasn’t trying to keep him out, Dan told himself. Phil had told him so. Dan himself had spoken the words aloud often when Phil was up north and felt even farther away. The worst were times like these, with Phil’s mum there and Phil still so far away. Earlier that evening, his mum had pulled Dan aside to talk to him. Phil’s stilted conversation and long lapses into strange silence had begun to unnerve Dan to the point of over-attentive hovering. 

“He’s scared, love.” She’d squeezed his arm and he’d felt bewildered by the upside-downness of her offering him comfort at a time like this. Were these the downsides of parenthood no one spoke of? Dan had always known he’d want a family; he vaguely knew that there was a level of self-sacrifice necessary to do a good job. It wasn’t as if he was completely naive, as if society hadn’t punched down his throat over and over how often people felt as though they were failing their kids. 

Dan knew himself to be a massive flop in so many areas. Having a family was a thing he wanted when he was actually grown up, when he had a hold of all of the slippery things he had no idea how to fix or control now, like his bad brain. 

Kath’s eyes on his and hand too-warm and gentle had been so odd. Dan hadn’t expected to be comforted by Kath as if he were one of her own sons too. Ever since they’d gotten the news, his world was all tilted. He wondered if he’d be able to shake it back loose. He’d felt every second of twenty-three under her gaze. For weeks Dan had struggled with how to comfort Phil, with knowing what was right, with hating every moment of resentment, of fear or exhaustion that came with having a partner in pain but being So. Utterly. Useless. 

But Kath just knew. Phil’s mum was there all night, cooking dinner, helping to lighten the tone with jokes, smoothing a hand down Phil’s arm at a too-long silence in a way Dan couldn’t dream of managing. And now, somehow, she was wasting reserves of energy and care for _Dan_ , for this kid who knew shit about shit and was just taking up space in her son’s life. 

Her hands were so like Phil’s, he’d thought absently. He knew how to hold Phil’s hand. He didn’t just want to take comfort from her, but to give too. So he’d put his hand on hers and squeezed and didn’t say anything when her eyes brightened. 

“Phil always was a little scared of these things, you know?” she’d asked. “Losing someone. I remember when he was a tiny thing, Martyn wandered away at the shops. He carried on for ages, even after Martyn was found.” 

“Oh?” 

“Phil just always needs to know where the people he loves are.” 

“We’re all still here now, right?” Dan said desperately. He’d spent a whole lot of time swallowing down his own bone-deep fear of what might come. Maybe it was her hands, so like Phil’s hands, Phil’s hands that always meant _it’s okay_ , and _I’ve got you_ in a thousand permutations of touch, that triggered it. Maybe it was just the _Mum-ness_ of her, but Dan had been startled and mortified to feel himself begin to tear up. 

“Yes,” she said, squeezing kindly. “He’s still scared. He doesn’t know what will happen. He’s not a patient boy, always needs to know how things will go.” 

Dan nodded. 

“There’s no way for us to know, now, is there?” she asked, a little sad and drawn. Impulsively, he took her into his arms. He’d never done that before, didn’t know how he knew she needed it, but she must have, because she clung, hard and fast. “He’ll have built some walls, I reckon. He did that with us, for a bit, when he was a teenager.” 

“Oh?” 

She’d pulled away and fussed with his hair and he let her. “We thought, Nigel and I—” she cleared her throat, “We thought it was a teenage thing. That he’d come round and all. And maybe it was a bit. But once you came along and we found out…” 

“Yeah,” Dan had said, shifting on his feet a bit. 

“I do wish we’d known sooner, or that he’d felt like he could tell us. Those walls were hard, at times. It’s hard to feel apart from the people you love and need most.” 

Dan nodded and squeezed his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. 

“I don’t know how else it could have gone, honestly, back then. Oh, we’d’ve come around, of course. But, it was different. Meeting you first and seeing him fall in love with you…we were lucky. You showed us Phil without those walls, yeah? We got to learn a little, who he was, through you.” 

“Kath—” 

“Don’t worry, love. There’s nothing much to be said about that.” Kath shrugged. Perhaps it had been best, that Phil never had to do the big _coming out_ , but it still had not been easy. Not for Phil or his parents. Things had been weird and strained and at the time, he and Phil had only ever really been able to see it from their perspective. Because, even then, so scared of being rejected and both of them young and stupid—younger and stupider—they’d been a unit in that fear-space, an in-it-together part of the puzzle. 

Dan didn’t feel that, now, with Phil. “So you’re saying I need to wait it out?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she’d said with some surprise. “You two work in a way that no one really understands; it’s quite eerie sometimes. I guess I thought, maybe you’ve never been outside the walls with Phil. It must be scary. But it’s not at all about him loving you or—” she had waved a hand, “any of that. He’s scared. And maybe it’s not that he’s keeping you out by building walls, maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you through them.” 

That night in bed, Dan tried to wait out a silence that went on and on after Phil spoke. Eventually he had to prompt him. “Phil? What can’t you unthink?” 

“What the world looks like. What it’ll look like. When he’s gone. How will I ever—” 

Dan pushed himself up on an elbow to lean over Phil. It was too dark for him to see much more than the shape of Phil’s face. 

“Don’t say that,” Dan interrupted fiercely. 

“What, that I don’t know how I’m going to cope?” Phil sounded cross and hurt. 

“No,” Dan said, putting an arm on the other side of Phil’s shoulder to keep him from rolling away. “Don’t say _when_. It’s not time for _when_ yet, okay?” 

Tension unwound from Phil’s tight muscles as he exhaled. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Phil, you don’t have to tell me everything,” Dan said, swallow thick and forced. He wanted to contradict himself, to say _tell me everything, you always do, we always have_. But he couldn’t because he knew it wasn’t true, at least on his end, and that pushing Phil to talk about things he wasn’t ready to would be more about Dan’s needs than Phil’s. “But I know what it’s like, when the things I think start to get away from me. And I know how much better you make everything. You don’t _know_ how I feel because you can’t. But you can see everything differently, and I need that. Let me be that for you, yeah? If you can?” 

Phil sniffled then, and rolled his face into Dan’s chest with a thump that knocked him over and hurt, actually. Phil’s head was solid, and Dan’s ribs weren’t built for that kind of impact. 

Then again, maybe he was, when it was Phil. 

Phil didn’t say a word about their conversation the next day, or after that, or ever again. Never thanked Dan, either for holding him while he fell apart, or for holding him while he cobbled himself back together. For holding him in the mornings when Phil pulled those walls back up tight. 

At least, he never _said_ thank you. But he did show it.

It became a new normal, in the next few months, them feeling out how to show instead of tell. It was a relief in some ways, for Dan. He had no idea what to say to Phil when he’d Skype from home, drawn and too quiet. 

But he knew how to take Phil into his arms. He knew sometimes Phil needed Dan to hold him down and saturate him, pull him forcibly into that little bubble they’d made years ago, spent years fortifying, spent years protecting. Dan knew without really knowing, without being told, that sometimes, he needed to keep Phil quiet, one of his large hands pinning Phil’s to the bed above him, the other over his mouth. For years it had been Dan that needed sex like that. It was a thing they’d learned together. It helped, already knowing how they communicated and navigated being with each other like that, when it was Dan in need. Dan was solid, heavier than Phil. He learned how to press himself down onto Phil, to give him no room to move, to offer a space to close his eyes and let himself feel and feel and feel only good things. To fall into a very quiet place when Dan’s rocking body against his brought pleasure slow and sure and inexorable up and through him until he was a shivering wreck. 

And when it was done, Dan learned to hold Phil and not ask questions, not try to comfort him. Not to wipe away his silent tears. But just to be there. 

Still, it wasn’t perfect. The silence took a toll on Dan. The walls did, too. Phil behind the walls was harder to read, was different than a Phil who was pulling away to take some space. When Dan knew why Phil was pulling away, at least he knew the language for how to help, or to try. Now, there were days when every word felt like a collision, when Dan resented the lack of room for two sets of messy feelings: Phil’s pain and his own guilt and self loathing, the acidity of resenting Phil’s walls. That self-loathing became its own layer of feeling, and Dan thought he might suffocate under the weight of conflicting emotions, the responsibility. He was only twenty three and partnered, and sometimes still just felt like that dumb kid with a track record of tumbling through life unsure and just somehow barely making it work. 

He’d been able to do that, the messy work of his life, because he had Phil. Only now there were weeks when Dan _didn’t_ have Phil. There were weeks when Dan had almost nothing of his own to give, but was scared to let Phil know, and so the last of his reserves went toward trying. The worst were the days Dan felt obligated to try, even when he had no idea what the cause of his own inability was. When Dan was trying to reach through those walls because _he_ needed Phil, but Phil wasn’t there. 

Distance became a bad habit too, especially as time passed. Phil would retreat into the filming room and close the door. It was a place for Phil to go when he was mad at Dan, or frustrated with their work, tired from the constant travel. 

“It’s like we’re on a pendulum, y’know?” Dan told Bryony one night over drinks. Phil had gone off to the loo and Dan was just on the edge of too-loose with drink. “He keeps me out, and sometimes I know what to do, and it _works_. But—”

“What d’you mean? You two do _work_ , dummy.” 

“Not always,” he’d said, poking a drink straw into the leftover wedge at the bottom of Phil’s cocktail. “The back and forth is...It’s like we’re too close and then too far and I don’t—I don’t get to be angry about it—”

“What do you mean?” Wirrow interrupted. “You get to feel—”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me right now, man. I’m an asshole, okay? I resent it! I’ve got fuck all idea what I’m doing, and everything feels like shit from my end, and I _need_ to be there for him. I am. I _want_ to be, I swear.” 

“We know,” Bry said, touching the back of his hand with one finger. 

“It’s fucked, is all I’m saying.” 

“Yeah,” Wirrow had said, eyes right on Dan’s. Wirrow knew what it was, to be depressed. And he was always on Dan about taking care of himself, or trying to help him. Dan knew it was love, in its way, but he didn’t have _time_ for that. He didn’t have space in his mind. Because he had, _had_ to be there for Phil, even when it felt like he was being eaten up inside. 

Maybe he was, but it would pass. It always passed. 

**October**

“Are you really not talking to me?” Phil asked. He turned to look down the stairs at Dan, eyebrows raised at the sound of a slammed door. Dan hadn’t said a word to him since they’d left work after filming their own segment of the ‘Talk it Out’ project the BBC was doing. 

“Who said I wasn’t talking to you?” Dan unzipped his jacket and fluffed his hair, irritation in each precise movement.

“Um, the fact that you haven’t spoken to me since we left?” Phil didn’t want to budge from his spot halfway up the stairs, sure that Dan would fuck off as soon as he did. He tended to do that when they argued. 

“I spoke. I’m speaking now,” Dan said. 

“Asking if I had your Oyster card doesn’t count.” 

“Oh, whatever. Are you going to let me up or what?” 

“No.” Phil crossed his arms. He didn’t like that he was standing over Dan but he really didn’t want to move. 

“Are you actually kidding? What, you’re going to force me to talk to you? You know you can’t do that right? If I _weren’t_ talking to you, you wouldn’t be hearing my voice getting incrementally louder the more you piss me off!” 

“Christ, Dan! I just don’t want you running off and shutting me out, okay?” 

“Oh, that’s rich, Phil! I know you’re having trouble with this one, but this ‘Talk it Out’ business was for _work_. And guess what? We’re _home_ now.” Condescension dripped from every word, which only served to make Phil angry, and he hated, _hated_ feeling angry like this. 

“What’s that even mean? And pardon me if I was under the impression that’s what couples do. What friends do. Communicate.” Phil knew the words were unfair even as he said them. 

“You have _got_ to be shitting me Phil. I swear to god if you do not let me pass—”

“Fine, Jesus,” Phil said, stomping up the stairs. 

“And, no,” Dan said, close behind, “I’m not about to ‘run away’ or whatever bullshit—”

“Don’t call it bullshit Dan, you know that’s what you do.” Phil kicked off his shoes. 

“I leave the room to calm down! Because I don’t like this! I don’t want to yell at you. That’s constructive; you don’t get to treat me like a child because you just want to poke and poke and poke at whatever you want to fix when you’re conveniently ready to talk instead of shutting _me_ out.” 

“That’s not—” Phil took a breath and forced himself to focus on the argument at hand. “Look, I really just don’t want you walking away right now, not when I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong.” 

“ _Really,_ Phil?” Dan smirked, arms crossed again. His posture gave him away, always. Anyone else would read defiance in the taut hold of his face or the tip of his hips. But Dan’s hands were cupping his elbows, a sure tell that Dan was deeply hurt and trying to hold himself together. Frissons of actual fear ran through Phil. What had he done that was really so awful? Obviously something during Confession Roulette, based on the dig about leaving work stuff at work. 

“You really have no idea?” 

“I-I’m sorry, I just—”

“ _‘It’s not normal human behavior,’_ ” Dan quoted. “That’s what you said, right? That my insomnia isn’t ‘normal’?”

 _Fuck_. 

“Okay, that probably was not the best way to word that—”

“The best way! The _best_ way?” Dan yelled. Phil took a step back. Dan never yelled, not like this. “What _right_ do you have, what absolute right do you have, telling people things like that?”

“Dan, don’t overthink this. It was supposed to be about real stuff, not fake answers.”

“There’s a _boundary_ Phil. If we make jokes about my pacing or not sleeping when we’re doing live shows or if I talk about it in a video, whatever, it’s part of the bit, it’s a gag...Because it’s planned, or we know it’s okay, because that’s what we do. The things that only _you_ know the real truth about, you don’t-I-I can’t,” Dan turned away and bit his lip. 

Phil waited but Dan didn’t say anything, just turned toward the windows with high, tense shoulders heaving with ragged breaths. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, caution slowing the words down. “How what I did is so different if it’s a thing you’d put in a video anyway.” 

“Context Phil! Because the whole point was the honesty, was that people ‘talking it out’ aren’t bringing fake pre-packaged answers. It’s not a joke, it’s not a funny story. It’s a truth. It’s _my_ truth.” 

“We’re talking in circles,” Phil said, quieter with every increase in Dan’s pitch. 

“It’s like you took my clothes off in front of everyone, Phil. You told everyone I’m not normal. You were _forcing_ me to admit something is wrong with me. How does your brain even think that’s the same as a cracked tile or a lost game?”

“Is this like, one of your control things?” Phil asked. 

“What,” Dan whispered, whirling back around, “in the actual fuck?”

Phil didn’t answer. Not just because there was no good answer, but because somehow his own confused irritation at the situation had become tangled with so much more: resentment and genuine anger, anxiety and fear, and also, always, a small part of himself that hated seeing Dan hurt. A part whose instinct was to take his hand. Only he didn’t, because an anger so big he could barely catch its shape swelled inside him, violent and sweeping. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dan? Are you?” Phil shouted. Dan froze. “‘It’s _fine_?’ ‘Why do you _care_ ’? Wasn’t that what you said? I’m sorry, but it’s _not_ normal, and ignoring it isn’t making anything better, is it? It’s never-ending Dan. Aren’t you exhausted?”

Dan took a deep breath, and then another. His cheeks were flushed but his lips were white. “No. You don’t get to turn this around. If you think I’m not _’normal’_ ,” he spit the word with venom, “you’re free to tell me—”

“No that’s not—”

“But you don’t get to air it in _public_! These are not your secrets to share. Consent is a thing Phil.”

Dan’s eyes were too bright and Phil told himself, ordered himself to calm down because a tiny curl of understanding was dawning. Only he was just so angry still. So angry and scared and _tired_. Phil couldn’t remember when he’d last slept well, when he hadn’t been so consumed with worry he woke aching with exhaustion. There was so much piled on his shoulders. Years and years of worrying over Dan, months of being so scared he was going to lose his father, so long trying to protect what he and Dan had from a world they’d _invited_ in. When it came to Dan, Phil’s own inadequacy haunted him. His increased frustration with Dan’s refusal to seek help when he’d been told, he’d been _told_ he probably had depression, snowballed along with all of the other pressures and fears he carried. Phil hated himself for feeling frustrated and overwhelmed. But Dan was right. He had crossed a line. And these feelings, the too-big for the situation ones, the angry and resentful ones, had no place in the current conversation. 

“Dan, I—” Phil dugs his fingernails into his palms. “I’m sorry.” 

“Mate, sound like you mean it, yeah?” Dan said. 

“I am. I do.” Phil bit at each word. “I’m sorry if I can’t just turn it off, there’s just a lot of other—it’s a lot,” Phil broke off when he felt, to his own horror, his eyes beginning to burn. He walked away from Dan, pacing the small length of the living room, before coming back. “Okay, I think you’re right about this space thing.” 

“What?”

“I don’t want to yell at you, and I don’t want to be yelled at and there’s a lot more happening here than just the show.” 

“Um, maybe for you?” 

“Yeah, for me,” Phil snapped. “There _is_ a lot happening for me, and I don’t want to take it out on you. I’m so overwhelmed. It’s not fair, to either of us, to yell about it when really we should probably try actually talking it out.” 

Dan stared at him for a long minute. Phil could read the understanding and apology as his face softened by degrees. But he couldn’t, not now. He couldn’t stand Dan apologizing or swallowing completely justified anger just because he could never stand to see Phil in distress.

“I’m going to make myself some tea,” Phil said. He shook out his hands, trying to quell the nervous shaking. 

“Okay,” Dan said. 

“I’ll...I’m going to go lie down for a while, I think.” 

Dan’s eyes were wide, and a little scared, and he looked so young. Never, in four years, had Phil walked away from a fight. He was too stubborn. Phil had resented Dan’s tendency to do so many times. For the first time, he understood it. What he was feeling was too big, too complicated and frankly scary. He hadn’t the first clue where to even begin understanding what was happening. 

“It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t touch Dan or come closer. But he could offer him words. “Everything will be fine. I’m just going to try your thing.”

“All right,” Dan said. He toed at the floorboards, eyes on his feet. “I’ll be, um, out here I guess. Or the gaming room. Wherever. When, um. When you’re ready.” 

“Yeah.” Phil nodded. He took a step back, and then another. It wasn’t until he was in their room, door shut, that he realized he’d forgotten the tea.

* * *

It wasn’t that Phil was counting down the hours until he got home from the meet and greets he’d done in Europe...but he kinda was. By the time he texted Dan to let him know he’d made it to the airport and was at the gate—which was not at all a lovingly passive aggressive demonstration of how time management prior to departure resulted in a leisurely stroll through the airport—he was counting down the minutes. There were lots of them. 

The weather wasn’t great; the closer they got to departure, the more anxiously he listened to announcements about flight delays and cancellations. Phil was so tired, it felt like he’d been gone for years and all he wanted was his bed and _Dan_. He was missing Dan viscerally. He always did when they were apart, but the separation on the heels of an emotional time with his family, the whirlwind of Europe, and meeting fans so shortly after having had such a large fight with Dan really sat in his bones. They’d had time, after, to make up. To try to talk things through. But not enough. So much had been left unsaid, or set aside for another time. That decision had felt best, all things considered. But he’d been with Dan then, and it was much too easy to slide into increasing worry not that he wasn’t with him. 

No matter how hard Dan tried to hide it, Phil could tell he was having a hard time. In the last year, Phil knew Dan had worked particularly hard to keep his difficulties from Phil. Often, it worked. Especially when Phil felt like he was falling apart, when he was so willing to be distracted from his own misery he’d have bought into almost anything. 

This separation was painful, but it definitely threw some things into sharp relief. Dan was struggling. Phil just wanted to be home, to hold him. Hopefully, when Dan came out of the other end of this low, because he always seemed to, to some degree, they could have a serious conversation. There had been something, something intangible and hard and all too real in that last fight that said, _this is big._ That warned a breaking point was lurking. 

Phil boarded the plane and stowed his carry on with a deep sense of relief. He watched the blinking lights of the planes taxiing in a queue in the dusk. Eventually he plugged in his earbuds and wished he were sharing music with Dan. Dan’s playlists always surprised him. 

He’d listened to five songs before it occurred to him that they hadn’t moved. 

Which was about when the pilot announced that they were going to be delayed, and that they hoped to get them off the ground as soon as possible. 

Phil: _thought we were in the clear but waiting now_

It seemed like ages passed before Dan replied. Despite genuine enthusiasm over Phil getting home, his responses had been sluggish all night. 

Dan: _da fuc, y?_

Phil sent him a series of raincloud emojis. More minutes disguised as hours passed until an actual hour had slipped away.

Phil: _now he says we might have to deplane_

Dan sent him a gif of a red panda laying flat on its belly while others played around it. Phil chose to take this to mean the panda was sad, rather than adorably tired, which would have been his first guess. 

More time passed; long enough for Phil’s battery to drain so low he turned off the music and propped his head against the window. Long enough for him to come to terms with the fact that counting minutes was pointless. He hated having no end in sight. Having no control over the situation. His chest was tightening, fingertips tingling, the threat of an anxiety attack on the verge of becoming a reality. 

Phil closed his eyes and thought of Dan, and how Dan would take advantage of the dimmed lights and their travel blanket. How he would hold Phil’s hand and help him breathe in a triangle by squeezing his hand to a four count beat. Phil fisted his hands and counted for himself, picturing Dan the whole time. 

An hour later they were deplaning. When they were informed that their flight might be delayed for hours, Phil’s finger was on the call button before he even realized it. He needed Dan, needed to ask Dan just to breathe on the phone with him, to hold him together. He almost missed the claustrophobia of the plane because at least it was dark, and quiet. The airport was a cacophony of noise, of complaints and worries about missed connections. There would be no peace found here, even if he did manage to call Dan, because where the fuck would he go that would be quiet and still? 

So rather than call, he sat and waited, and with every conflicting update provided by their gate attendant, texted Dan. 

It wasn’t until he’d landed at Heathrow and Phil turned off airplane mode that he realized his last texts to Dan hadn’t gone through. He had texted when they’d been told it would be hours until they could get off the ground, only to be called back to the gate an hour later. 

Phil: _My texts didn’t come through! Am home!!!!_

Phil juggled his phone with his carry on as he was jostled in an unsteady stream of passengers making their way toward baggage claim. He set it to vibrate and pocketed it, knowing he’d feel it before he’d hear it in this mob. 

It wasn’t until he was in a cab and giving the driver his address that he realized he’d never heard back from Dan. It was well past two a.m.; maybe Dan had fallen asleep by accident, waiting for him. All of the lights were on in the apartment, of course, but Phil resisted calling out just in case Dan was asleep. It was dead quiet in the apartment, and Phil was surprised to find their room empty. 

“Dan?” he called, making his way to the other room. 

“ _Phil?_ ” Dan’s voice floated down, incredulous and heavy. 

Phil pounded up the stairs, heart thumping, expecting to find Dan lost in a raid, or in a Wikipedia rabbit hole. Only he wasn’t. He was on the floor, laptop next to him but shut. 

“Oh, _Dan_ ,” Phil said. He bent over, trying to get a look at him.

“You’re home,” Dan said. He didn’t move. His eyes were even more deeply shadowed than they’d been on their last Skype call. They popped open. “Fuck, you’re home!” He sat up abruptly, kneeing Phil in the shin, knocking his laptop to the side. 

“Ow.” Phil sat abruptly. There really wasn’t room for them both like this. “Yeah, didn’t you see my texts?” 

“What?” Dan was looking around him, patting pockets he didn’t have on his sleep pants. “No. What? Where’s my phone?” 

“I dunno,” Phil said. He tilted his head. Dan had the imprint of carpet on one cheek, and his hair looked unwashed. 

“God,” Dan moaned. “Don’t look at me, fuck I was going—I meant to—” 

“Dan,” Phil interrupted. He traced a forefinger over the marks on Dan’s cheek. Dan closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in. But when he exhaled, it was as if all the life went out of him with it. 

“I’m sorry Phil,” he said. He got to his feet, clumsy with it. Phil wondered how long he’d been on the floor. “I was going to shower before you got home. I didn’t want you to see me like—” he bit off the rest of the words with a sigh. 

“Were you going to try to hide it from me Dan?” Phil whispered. He didn’t have it in him to pretend anymore. 

“I’m such utter shite,” Dan said, flat voiced. “I’m so sorry Phil, I didn’t want you to have to deal with this.” 

“Dan, please.” Phil took a breath. “Dan—” he called when Dan turned, making his clumsy way out of the room. He hauled himself up to follow, just far enough behind that he missed catching Dan in time before he’d closed the bathroom door and locked it. They didn’t lock doors, not between them. Phil stood, hand on the wood, for a long moment, completely off balance. 

Eventually, Phil decided to wait Dan out in their room. He was exhausted, but more, he was scared. He was scared and not just because Dan had looked completely wrecked, and not just because he knew now that Dan had been lying. Phil thought he could tell how bad off Dan was over Skype, but one look at him tonight and suddenly, too clearly, Phil understood how hard Dan must have been fighting to be seen differently. 

That knowledge opened a pit in Phil’s belly, so big it awed him. For all the times Phil knew Dan had struggled this year, how often had even that been a facade covering something worse? 

Love was hard, so much harder than Phil had ever thought it could be, and so much scarier too. Loving Dan was a perfect inevitability he could not have anticipated but would hold on to with everything he had. He’d fight for it. Fight with Dan to hold it. Fight for Dan when Dan couldn’t. Which meant, he knew now, he’d have to fight Dan for Dan, if that’s what it took.

* * *

Dan stalled in the shower as long as he could, well past the point of pruned fingers. Despite the time, he shaved what small amount of scruff had accumulated over the past few days. He lingered, cleaning up the small mess in the sink for far longer than necessary until he was completely drained of energy; he hadn’t had much stored in the first place. Dan had been braced to put on a show for Phil all day, had been almost painfully grateful for Phil’s flight delay. Because the closer Phil’s arrival came, the more impossible the task of pretending he was okay seemed to become. 

He emerged quietly, the door unlocking with a small snick. Bare feet padding softly against the carpet, Dan went searching Phil out. He found Phil asleep, still dressed, on the bed. His back was propped up and his head lolled to the side in a way Dan knew would leave a crick. For a moment, he was so tempted to crawl up onto the bed, to urge Phil under the covers. To curl up in Phil’s arms and inhale the recycled travel smell of him, searching out Phil’s real scent. 

But he wasn’t ready, not just yet. Soon. He needed just a little more time, in case Phil woke and wanted to talk.

Dan stretched out on the carpet of the hallway. Ten minutes, he promised himself. Ten minutes and he’d go back, tuck Phil in, let himself sleep and wake up new and fresh and determined to forget this. To get Phil to forget it. In the morning, he’d have the strength to brush it off as missing Phil too much, letting melancholy overtake him.

“Dan?” Phil’s voice fell over him, washing slow like warm water rising around him, rousing Dan from the soft grey space he’d wrapped himself in. “Dan, it’s almost four.” 

“Fuck,” Dan said, with hardly any inflection. “I meant to come to bed sooner. I just…” 

Phil sat next to him, elbows on his knees, eyes heavy and red rimmed. 

“If I apologize again, would it work?”

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” Phil asked after a too-long silence. Dan considered brushing a thumb over the worried line between Phil’s brow, but it was too much, too much effort, too exhausting. Too close. 

“I know,” Dan said. His eyes slipped shut. His words were quiet, slurred and flat. The voice in his head ran in circles, over and over, louder than anything Phil could say. _I don’t deserve you_. _I’ll just ruin everything_. _I want so much more for you._

Phil lay down then, right on the ground, face inches from Dan’s. Of course, because Phil was the good one, the one who knew how to do these things, to love and to comfort and to reach out, he put his hand on Dan’s. 

“Do you really though?” Phil spoke so softly, the kind of soft that was theirs only, them in that little bubble in a big world. With his eyes closed, Dan realized he could feel Phil. He could smell him. He wanted to believe it meant he was coming out of the grey. Knowing that somehow, someway, Phil was still the only thing in his life that could penetrate that bubble, warmed him. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and dripped off his nose. Funny, he didn’t realize he was crying. 

“I do,” he managed. “I always do, Phil.” Dan had to be sure Phil knew this. If Phil thought Dan doubted him, even for a second, it would hurt Phil so. Dan never wanted to hurt Phil. “But I don’t know that I deserve it. You—”

“Dan,” Phil said helplessly. The pad of his thumb caught more of Dan’s tears. 

“You’re so good, Phil. And I’m...I’m nothing. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time and no matter how hard I try, I can’t be there for you when you need me, how you need me. I make you worry, and I know I’m so much work.” 

“No,” Phil said. Surprised by the strength in his voice, Dan opened his eyes. Phil’s were keen on his, unwavering and wide. “It's not work to love you Dan. Being with you…it’s like breathing. I don’t know how...I just. You are here for me, I depend on you—I’ve depended on you so much this year and you haven’t let me down. I need you. And you need me. And that’s not just okay, it’s right. It’s like…” 

“Like what?” Dan slid his fingers through Phil’s, curling them together against the floor. 

“Oh, it sounds so cheesy,” Phil said, the puff of air from his light laugh a caress against Dan’s cheek. “But I know, deep inside, that every part of me was made to love you. And to be loved by you.” 

“Phil,” Dan said helplessly. It was so hard, so terrifically hard, to trust that he had anything, or the right things, to give to Phil. To see Phil lay himself so bare with the kind of words they didn’t use as often as they had in the beginning.

“It’s okay, you know, if right now your brain is telling you things that are untrue,” Phil said. “But I need you to know that that’s what they are. Untrue. Our brains can lie to us, and I reckon yours has been doing that while I’ve been gone.”

“Yeah?” Dan smiled a little. 

“Yeah.” Phil scooted closer and kissed Dan’s knuckles. “And I’m right here. I know how hard you’ve been trying to be here for me this year. And I think I’ve let you down, some, by not always seeing that. But I’m just as here for you as you are for me. I _want_ to be. I am here to hold you if you need, or talk to you, or tell you weird stories about the thing that happened on the tube, because you know me, there’s always something happening to me on transport—” 

Dan let out the giggle building in his throat. 

“Of course something happened, something always happens when you travel.” 

“Always.” Phil’s gaze is so steady, so unwavering. So _him_. They were quiet a moment. “Dan.” Phil hesitated. Dan saw clearly, how Phil’s eyes communicated a precipice, that the shaping of whatever he said next was important. “I think you need help. I _really_ do.”

“You help,” Dan said. He put every bit of feeling he could into the words.

“I know, but I can’t help the way you need, I don’t think.” 

Dan closed his eyes. He heard Phil, he really did. Just like he’d heard him before, like he’d heard Wirrow and Bryony and his doctors. Only with an ugly carpet below their cheeks, hands squeezing each other’s so hard his knuckles throbbed, Dan thought maybe he understood something. Understood it in the tiredness of his bones and the way that even though he knew Phil’s eyes to be the brightest blue, right now they too were tinged with the grey, grey, grey of Dan’s depression. 

He’d fought these feelings for years. He’d fought hardest this year, pretending that he was in control of it. That every time he pretended he wasn’t depressed so that he could be there for Phil, it meant he was able to overcome depression by sheer will. 

But he wasn’t overcoming anything. He wasn’t in charge of anything. He was just pretending. Tonight, unprepared, he’d been unable to pretend. Maybe in the morning he would have. For the fans, for cameras, for work, maybe he could. But what was the point in that, really? He _was_ happy, so often. He wanted that all the time, or as much as possible. Depression was a thief, he realized, stealing the joy he’d fought for. Dan had pretended to feel many things for the people and obligations in his life, but never before this year had he done so with Phil. That was, he realized, the worst theft of joy, because the deepest root of his happiness was in Phil, with Phil. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Dan admitted at last. Phil took a deep breath. “But, Phil...do you think we could talk about that tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Phil said quickly. “What can I do now though?”

Dan’s laugh was rueful. “I don’t know. You being here is pretty good.”

“Will it help, do you think, if I tell you the things that are true, because I’ve a feeling your brain’s been lying to you again.” 

“What are the truths?” Dan asks. 

“That I need you. You make me laugh. You like all the weird shit about me. You take care of me in a thousand little ways I don’t think you even realize. You bring me tea when my head aches before I’ve even told you it does. You make me dinner with vegetables. You love me so much I can’t believe how big it is. You gave me anniversaries and made what happened feel bearable. You’ve made this year bearable. You think I’m brilliant when I’m sure what I’m making is shit. I believe in you so much; you’re so smart and creative and funny that sometimes, you believing in me is what _I_ need to believe in me. I know you love me no matter what. That it’s not about you deserving me, or deserving love. There’s no one else I want more. You’re beautiful, _god_ Dan, you’re so beautiful.”

“Phil,” Dan protested.

“I need to keep going. Um. You’re so smart. You’re so smart you take my breath away. You inspire me because you’re always looking to learn, and it’s amazing to watch. Because you look to learn from people, from life, from experience, and not everyone has that. Not everyone is capable of that level of vulnerability and honesty.” 

“Okay, now you have to stop,” Dan sniffled. 

“Why? Is this all really so hard to accept?” 

Dan worried his chapped lip. Phil touched his mouth, pulling his lip away from his teeth before Dan made them bleed. 

“I think maybe? That was a lot. I don’t—I don’t want you to feel obligated to say these things.” Dan scooted closer to Phil, until they were almost nose to nose. “I know, I know you’ll say my brain is being bad or something—”

“Not bad, Dan. Never bad, Just—”

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan interrupted. “It’s so hard to think right now, just… Look, I think some of it, I know. That you need me, and how it’s not about me not being worthy of you, of this. Because, I don’t—I don’t want you to ever think I don’t trust you. And it’s easy to know you’ll always love me. It’s the rest, you know?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Phil’s lips were soft. Dan had to stop biting his lip to kiss him back, a whisper of a kiss. 

“Okay then,” Dan whispered when he pulled back.

“Okay more?” Phil asked. 

“No. Okay you’re right. I need help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again, thanks to each person who has encouraged me along the way. 
> 
> "Talk it Out" references a BBC segement Dan and Phil did together as a part of a week long project the BBC was doing. You can find it online, though the second half (which is referred to here) is a little harder to find. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Wildfire" by SYML


	6. 2014 || we're gonna photosynthesize and drink up the sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change in direction, an adjustment to therapy, and a day in the life. Also, sweater paws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reference to a difficult thing Dan spoke about in BIG. It's not graphic or detailed. If you have questions, feel free to contact me. 
> 
> One thousand thanks and more ( _ha!_ ) to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking and cheerleading.
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

**** Tw: ref to ptsd/repression, oblique reference to past suicide attempt. Nothing graphic or detailed.  
Rating: M  
**January**

“So we’re really doing this.” 

“Phil,” Dan said. He brushed clumsy fingers up Phil’s arm where it was wrapped around his waist. “Sleep. Sleepy.”

“I know, I know,” Phil said, more quietly. Midnight settled heavy around them. Dan’s breaths were the kind of long and slow that meant he’d been sliding into sleep. Phil had been caught up in an aching tumble of worries that followed him through dinner and into post-dinner lounging. They’d tried watching _The Walking Dead_ but Phil had struggled to pay attention the whole time and ultimately they’d chosen to go to bed early. 

“Phil?” Dan said. Still a little sleep slurred but marginally more awake, Dan rolled over. He pushed Phil’s hair off of his forehead, almost poking his eye in the process. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” Phil said. “It’s nothing. Sleep, I’m sorry.” 

“What? No.” Dan reached across Phil and turned on the light. Phil closed his eyes and slapped his hand over his eyes. “Oh, shit, have you got a headache?” A click signaled the light being turned back off. 

“No,” Phil said. Dan huffed and brushed his fingers over Phil’s temple. “Well, not like I did earlier.” 

“Why didn’t you say?”

“It was just a headache, Dan.” 

“Well, if you’re still up and it’s not as bad, that means it was a worry headache,” Dan stated with certainty. 

“Not necessarily!” Phil felt compelled to argue. He leaned into Dan’s touch as he’d started massaging from his temple to the joint of his jaw. 

“Stop talking back just to contradict me,” Dan instructed. He sat up and against the headboard. “Head in my lap.” 

“Bossy,” Phil complained. 

“You love it,” Dan said. A smile rounded out the words. Phil didn’t have to see them to hear it. He shifted his head into Dan’s lap and sighed as Dan began rubbing the pads of his fingers against both temples. What was left of the ache behind his eyes began to fade. “You wanted to know if we’re really doing this.” 

Phil shifted. “Yeah.” 

“Want to tell me what _this_ is?” 

“The sharing,” Phil said after a long silence. 

“Like, in general as a concept or…?” Dan’s fingers were working on Phil’s jaw, which wasn't a great incentive to speak, much less to articulate himself when he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking. 

“Maybe? I don’t know. I...feel worried.” 

“A big worried? How long have you—”

“No, a vague one. And not long. I’ve not been stewing or anything. Just today.” Dan shifted a bit, thigh flexing. His fingers paused before he began to sweep them through Phil’s hair, taking moments to untangle as he went. His silence spoke. “I wasn’t keeping it from you. I just didn’t know what was causing it and it seemed silly, really.”

“Your worries aren’t silly to me, rat.” 

Phil turned on his side and nuzzled into him at the fond words. “I know. Thought if I knew what was causing it, then I could talk it out.” 

“You could always talk through it to figure it out,” Dan said. Phil consciously didn’t snort. More and more Dan was bringing home little gems he was sure were from therapy. “Don’t roll your eyes at me; it works.” Dan poked Phil’s cheek and giggled. 

“I’ll have you know I was not rolling my eyes.” 

“Well you were doing something. Or trying not to. Or thinking about it.” 

“Wow, Dan.” 

“Anyway,” Dan continued, “Really Phil, you know...I want to hear it. Even if you don’t have a name for whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to know what’s causing it. You don’t even have to want to figure it out or talk about it. But I don’t want you to feel alone in something, if you don’t want to.” 

“I never feel alone with you,” Phil said, then squeezed his eyes shut. He meant it; it wasn’t like he hadn’t said something like that any number of times before. Somehow in the last few years, something had shifted, where they knew each other so well that they’d stopped saying things as much because they were just _true_. Only now he felt a bit naked, saying them. Sometimes guilty, because Dan always melted a bit and whenever that happened Phil realized that knowing something and hearing it could make a world of difference. 

“Still,” Dan said. His fingers were buried in Phil’s hair, no longer moving, palm heavy and grounding. 

Phil sat up and searched for Dan’s face in the dark, aiming to kiss his lips but landing on the side of his nose. Dan’s giggle tickled against his cheek. Phil settled next to him, propped against the headboard. 

“I know we’ve talked about this. I know we talked it to death after the holidays and all, but I think I’m worried about what happens if we shift the lines, like with the audience, and it gets scary, or too much?” 

“Then we figure it out Phil.” Dan spoke so calmly, like it was easy. 

Phil didn’t know how to ask what they would do if Dan freaked out. Truthfully, Phil was as likely to spiral as Dan, only his brand of spiraling was very different. It was a lot less public. 

Though, upon reflection, that would probably have a worse outcome because no matter what, he and Dan were the priority. 

“How?”

“Well, I reckon talking might be a good place to start,” Dan said, so wry Phil had to laugh. 

“Shut up, jerk.” 

“No, really,” Dan said. “I know it’s different, but we’ve always set the boundaries together. This is just different. Before it was like...keeping people out, so we could have this for us. Now it’s about inviting people in, but on our terms, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Phil said. Dan was right; this was a conversation they’d had. In iterations. First, a tentative question after Christmas, when Dan was doing his annual year in review, preparing for the new year reflection he always did. They’d hardly had time to talk about it really; the holidays were mad with travel and families. 

“Phil,” Dan had said in December when they’d managed to sit down to start talking about the direction they wanted to go for the upcoming year. “People love us, on the radio. They love us in videos together.” 

“Well, we’re awesome,” Phil said, half-self deprecating sarcasm, half pride. 

“D’you want to do the radio forever?” Dan had been tentative then, even though they both knew how exhausting and stressful the show could be. Being live, policing themselves, the planning, the execution, really ate at them both. “What if we still did _us_ , but like, ourselves?” 

Phil had turned to him. Dan’s face glowed in the light from the Christmas tree. The room was dim otherwise. He was a lot beautiful and little hesitant. A little sad maybe. Phil couldn’t tell if it was exhaustion, sadness, or introspection honestly. He’d find it unnerving, only Dan was talking to him, not internalizing it. That was good. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Dan had traced one of Phil’s eyebrows. “I don’t know. Just putting it out there.” 

They hadn’t talked about it again until after the new year. Rather than the intimate conversation they’d started in the post glow of Christmas, one that turned to sweet kisses and the kind of sex that was rough and hungry and somehow a perfect expression of that intimacy, this meeting was all business. They’d sat down and sketched out ideas. Anything was on the table; nothing was discarded regardless of feasibility. 

“We never dreamed we’d be here, did we?” Dan had said. “I never in my life dreamed this big.” 

“Well, then, let’s dream big together,” Phil had said. 

They had. They’d decided that projects from then on would be on their terms. In their control, which was really for the best, considering Dan’s tendency toward perfectionism and Phil's deep-seated stubborn streak. Dan’s perfectionism often held him back, but paired with Phil’s forward thinking, always moving brain, they made a good team. It was kind of amazing, their life. Their fans. Phil had been doing YouTube much longer than Dan, and despite the fact that Phil had been thrilled at his followers and their interaction in 2009, there was no doubt that it was _Dan and Phil_ together that drew astounding numbers of viewers in. Viewers who made all of this—their life—possible. 

There had been rough years, when they’d struggled to find footing with a change in their interaction and relationship with their audience. Phil was just grateful they’d both managed to adjust to that. 

Tonight, in the dark, in Dan’s arms, headache fading under his gentle touch, Phil felt that thrumming in his heart and prickling under his skin start to fade. 

“Will it bother you, if I keep rehashing this?” 

“No, not if it won’t bother you when I will,” Dan said. “I’m trying to...I don’t know. Work on things. Fix things—”

“You’re not broken,” Phil said insistently. Dan sighed. 

“That’s not what I meant. Shush now. Things aren’t going to magically get better. But nothing is as important to me as you. _Nothing_. And I know you feel that way too. So if something needs changing, we change it. If it isn’t working, we rework it.” 

“Yes,” Phil said on a long exhale. He didn’t know why, in the last weeks, he’d needed to hear it so much. Needed to hear things he knew. Dan never made him feel bad for it though. “This talking stuff isn’t so bad,” Phil said. Dan couldn’t see his smile, but he could definitely feel the kiss Phil gave his shoulder, the way his palm moved over his belly, pressing to feel the lovely give of it. 

“If I’d known communication was a kink—” 

Phil stopped the words with a kiss that left no room for misunderstanding of intent. “Shut up and kiss me now, Howell. Kink talk later.” 

Dan scooted down and when Phil did too, flipped Phil onto his belly easily. Despite his on-again, off-again relationship with exercise, Dan had kept a lot of the strength he’d built during his last on-again phase. Phil absolutely did not whimper at the sheer sexiness of Dan manhandling him. 

“Does kink-talk later mean kink-do now?” Dan whispered into Phil’s ear, licking the edge of it before biting down. Phil buried his face in the sheets and didn’t bother to respond. Dan crossed Phil’s hands over his head, removing Phil’s pants with practiced ease. Phil knew the language of these movements, these actions. He bit his lip and remained completely silent. He was never really sure if this counted as kink. It was playful sometimes, serious others. They both needed, from time to time, to get out of their heads. In the end it didn’t really matter, because _fuck_ did he want it. He didn’t need to justify it to anyone else, much less himself. All he had to do was spread his legs when Dan told him to. To keep quiet even with Dan’s mouth on him, tongue wicked flickering heat, teasing his rim, fingers practiced and preparing him a touch faster than usual. Dan didn’t draw it out, and he didn’t do as much as he might have normally. 

Because Dan knew, times like this, Phil liked the small burn. Loved that Dan kept him on a knife's edge, making him feel both worshipped and used by turns. Made Phil take it silently, but only because then Phil couldn’t shy away from the feeling of worthiness. Because he did, often. Fell into patterns of giving, of wanting to give, feeling like some things were too much to ask, to receive. 

Like this, Phil was completely helpless to the things Dan made him feel. Wanted him to feel. 

“Up,” Dan said, smacking Phil’s ass lightly. Phil got his knees under him. 

“Relax,” Dan ordered, and so Phil took a breath and consciously let the tension out of his back and his arms and neck. 

“Open, love,” Dan whispered, and Phil bore down, opening as Dan entered him. It burned, and Dan didn’t stop. He wasn’t rough, but he was thorough. He was slow and steady, making Phil tilt and adjust and squirm until he was sure he’d found Phil’s prostate. 

And then, Dan gave him such unforgiveable pleasure Phil was sure he’d draw blood from biting his lip to keep quiet. Until silent tears were running down his face; until Phil had no idea where he began and ended, where Dan did, when all he could do was shudder and cry into the sharp, overwhelming bloom of pleasure that swept warm and brilliant through all of his muscles. 

The only noise he made was the loud cry and then gasping moans as he came, untouched, all over their newly cleaned sheets. The whimpers of overstimulation he loved when Dan kept going. The exhale of relief when that pleasure slid toward pain and Dan pulled out without being asked, and came, warm and wet and lovely, all over his back. 

Phil slumped onto the bed after, ignoring the wet spot, ignoring the small ache in his arms and thighs and back. Instead, he let himself linger in the haze of nothing, floating and relaxed. He didn’t move when Dan came back with a warm flannel to wipe his back. He let himself be rolled over gently. Closed his eyes and enjoyed the sweet care Dan took with him, wiping his belly and now soft cock and kissing each hip bone as he went. Dan whispered something against his skin Phil couldn’t hear. And that was all right, it was okay because sometimes they needed to say things, because there were thousands of ways to spell out love, and they weren’t always for the listener. 

**June**

Dan was tired a lot lately, but not the kind he was used to. Not always the lethargy of depression—he could call it that now, more easily—but a mental exhaustion that came with the active work of talking about his shit. Some of it was easier: the stress of their work, the stress of constantly trying to strike a balance between his humor, pleasing his fans and learning from his mistakes. What it felt like to fuck up, over and over, but never privately. That was a big one it had taken a bit for him to untangle. 

His therapist had helped him sort out that one over the course of a couple of sessions. While Dan was unique, as everyone was, he also was one of billions of people who made mistakes, big and small. Dan wasn’t special in that respect. He didn’t need to beat himself up for them. Instead, he needed to come to terms with and to learn to cope with the fact that his mistakes were often public. And past ones were public in a way that weren't easily forgotten. The internet kept receipts. 

“It is what it is,” Sharon said when he’d complained, yet again, about old issues resurfacing. 

Dan had learned to love and hate that phrase. 

Then there was the really hard shit. The stuff he’d repressed, that he’d packed up in boxes and put deep in a closet and made himself forget about. Whenever they spent a session unpacking one of those boxes, he came home from therapy both on edge and drained at the same time. Phil had learned to recognize those days. He said Dan had a “therapy walk,” heavy footed like even that effort was a little too much. Dan wasn’t the most pleasant on those days, despite his best efforts. Phil learned that Dan didn’t do well with hovering and questions. They’d always shared so much, had lived in each other’s pockets for five years. Therapy was the first time Dan had something really big, something so important, that Phil wasn’t a part of. 

Dan remembered, when he first began therapy, how they’d had to hash out how they were going to navigate this new territory. He’d woken one day to an empty bed and a hollow pit in his stomach. The day before had been rough for them both—he’d come back from a session feeling particularly raw and Phil, ever-respondent to Dan’s moods, had hovered in a way that ended up grating more than comforting. Dan wasn’t proud of how he’d snapped at Phil, but the thing was that Dan _needed_ distance now, sometimes. Phil said it was all right, always, but Dan could see how that distance sat on Phil, the sadness lining his eyes, weighing his shoulders down. 

That morning when Dan finally shuffled out of their room, he’d found Phil curled on the couch, game remote in hand, with a cold cup of coffee next to him. The title screen of a game played softly in the background. Phil was staring out the window, deep in thought. Dan had watched just long enough to know he’d been sitting, unmoving for some time. 

“Morning,” he’d said eventually, aiming for light and bright, only it came out unsure and scratchy from sleep. Phil tilted his cheek automatically when Dan leaned in to offer a kiss. “You all right?”

“Yes, of course.” Phil had reached up to squeeze Dan’s fingers when Dan held out his hand. 

“Want me to warm that up for you?”

“What?” 

Dan picked up Phil’s mug and gestured with it. 

“Oh, yes, thanks.” His eyes had gone straight back to the window. They were tired, heavy bags under them. Phil was still, shoulders sloped. It cramped in Dan’s chest, when Phil was sad. It always did. It was harder, though, when Dan knew he was a part of the reason. Dan had lingered in the kitchen, gathering his nerves, knowing an important conversation needed to be had. 

“Phil?” Dan had sat on the couch, facing Phil, knees up and toes under his thigh. Intimate, close, but with enough space if it ended up being necessary. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Always.” 

“Wanna tell me why you’re sad?” 

Phil’s little laugh was part surprise and some rueful. “I’m not sad Dan. I—”

“But you—”

“No, don’t interrupt, please.” Phil’s hand was big enough to span Dan’s ankle. It was warm and reassuring and familiar. “I mean, I don’t think I’m sad. I’m just a little...lost I guess.”

“I know I shouldn't be so hard on you. When I get back, I mean, and you want to know what’s going on. I’m not trying to shut you out.” 

“It’s not my business, really.” Phil said, a flat attempt at a smile failing. Dan had said that to him the night before, before closing himself off in their room. 

“I’m sorry I said that. I’m sorry for how I said it.” Dan had traced Phil’s fingers where they wrapped around skin and bone and had been suddenly so, so grateful. He’d had these same hands on him in thousands of ways, for five years. For what would have been an unimaginable length of time in the pre-Phil days. 

He had them and he’d been happy. He _was_ happy. Every year Dan aged, he’d somehow managed to reach a new level of joy. He worried, sometimes, that happiness could only go so far, that it would plateau. And he’d still have it; it wouldn’t be a loss. But he never wanted to lose appreciation for how wonderful his life was, even with the hard bits mixed in. 

“I know,” Phil had said. 

“But I still need to say it Phil.” Dan aimed for gentle, but again landed just a bit off tone. “Just because we know each other so well doesn’t mean we don’t need to say these things.”

“Yeah?” Phil’s smile had done that thing, a lovely, sweet movement across his face. It was like watching the sun rise, this particular smile, how it came in increments but lit up his whole face in the end. 

“I—I want you to know that it’s not that I _don’t_ want to talk to you about the things that happen in therapy. But when I get home, sometimes it’s just too much. I mean, a lot of the things we talk about I’m sure I’ve told you at some point. But it’s a different sort of talking. It’s so much harder than I thought it would be. I...I feel all wrong after.” 

“Well, that’s not good,” Phil had said, smile dropping from his face. Dan regretted its loss for a moment. Touched Phil’s cheek and offered his own small smile. A comforting smile, he hoped. 

“I’m bungling this,” he’d said. “I don’t know that I can explain it. But it’s not bad. I just need some quiet, to sit with it. There’s so much heavy shit, Phil. You know.” 

Phil had nodded and squeezed his ankle. 

“Every time I go, I’m either going over it and over it so I can figure it out or...something. Because I can’t get it out of my head. Once it’s in there. Or...I can tell there’s more. That I’ve buried.” 

Phil had looked so, so sad then. 

“I’m not keeping it from you. I just can’t answer questions right after. I need some quiet. I’m so exhausted. I don’t want you to worry; it’s not like, when I’m depressed or anything.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “‘m talking about, when I’m in that kind of mood, after therapy.”

“Firstly, because I love you, I need you to know that I’ll always worry,” Phil had said. “But not in a way _you_ need to worry about. Just because you’re my favorite person. You’re my Dan. That’s just how it works.” 

Dan always melted a little, like he always did when Phil was sweet like that. It was a rare thing; those gifts only came from moments when Phil was really letting himself be emotionally present and open. “Second...I don’t—please try not to take this wrong, okay?”

“I can try,” Dan had said, making a face to make Phil laugh. He’d gotten a small smile. 

“I’m...used to, I dunno. Taking care of you? It’s force of habit or something.” 

It hadn’t felt good, to hear that. The words had triggered an instant flood of regret and shame, that instinctual reaction that told Dan he was a burden, that he brought others down. Self-hatred, his therapist called it. He’d had many names for moments when he’d felt worthless or awful, but he’d never really considered it true self-hatred. Sharon was good at that, turning everything around so that Dan had to really look at it, had to name it, had to strip it to honest terms without all of the bullshit he normally used to distance himself. 

_I’m not a burden_ he’d told himself. He told himself, over and over and over. _Phil loves me. He cares for me. I’d do the same._

“Okay. Well.” Dan’s knee had been hard under his cheek, and it was hard to sit, balled up like he was, arms wrapped around his legs. “Maybe...maybe we can find ways for you to take care—or to feel like you’re getting to take care of me—that are different?” 

And that was how they’d refined a post-Daniel-therapy routine. Phil bringing him his favorite tea. Lighting a candle. Offering Dan the softest, most luxurious blanket he owned. Phil had bought it knowing how Dan liked to wrap himself up in a little cocoon of warmth for comfort. A large part of the creation of this post-therapy routine ended up being them revisiting this conversation, negotiating tension and miscommunication and Dan’s unpredictable moods, but making sure not to do so until the next day.

And today...well today had been a really hard session. One where he came home so raw, so tense, he couldn’t bring himself to be around anyone in any capacity, even Phil. He’d disappeared to shower for as long as the water held out, and then gone to do some editing. He forced himself to focus on that, and only that, and not any of the heavy memories chasing him. Sharon might ask him to evaluate if he was repressing shit again by deliberately trying to avoid his thoughts. But Dan was about fourteen seconds from falling apart—he felt it, a huge, lurking breakdown just out of reach—and so he’d forgotten himself in a familiar process of cutting and splicing, adding effects. Going over tiny minutiae over and over again so he wouldn’t have to remember that for the first time, _ever_ , he’d almost wanted to tell someone about that time in high school. About the thing he’d almost done. 

But he _didn’t_ do it. That’s what he had to hold on to. It was a thing he didn’t ever want to think about; his brain skittered away from the thought any time he came close to it. The fact that he’d even considered telling her, that he’d acknowledged it internally as a _thing_ that had actually happened, was far, far too much for him to handle. 

Dan was learning to be willing to open up and unpack some of his shit. But there were some secrets he never, ever wanted to tell anyone. Secrets he wished, though he knew this made no sense, that he could keep from himself.

He only emerged when Phil knocked softly and asked if he wanted dinner. It was late; Dan had been working for hours. They ate in a heavy silence. 

All night Dan’s emotional state was an elephant, taking up all the space and breathing room in the flat. Dan knew, Phil knew, and they both knew they knew that something was going on. Dan tried to shield Phil from worry as much as he could, but hours of struggling with himself left him with so few reserves he couldn’t even think about Phil’s emotional state. He was hanging on by his fingernails, unable to unfeel this giant thing and it felt so wrong, dirty and shameful, to sit in a room with Phil and know he had a secret he never planned on telling him. Because if there was anything Dan could tell Phil in this world that would break his heart, it was this. Dan couldn’t fathom telling him, but somehow, for the first time, the weight of not telling him was choking him. 

Dan cleaned up after dinner and eventually wrapped himself up in front of the TV. Phil sat next to him, not touching, allowing the silence to stretch and stretch until Phil could barely keep his eyes open. 

“I’m off to bed,” he said. Dan tilted his chin up for a light kiss. “I think I’ll read for a bit.” The words had come out on an upswing, like he was asking a question. Opening a door. 

“All right.” Dan said. “Don’t wait up though, okay? You’re tired.” 

He’d known Phil would try, and that Phil knew he knew. The dangers of living in each other’s pockets for years, Dan supposed. Even the things unsaid could be deafeningly loud. 

Hours later Dan still wasn’t sleepy, but was finally coming down—or at least, coming to a place where he was more comfortable in his skin. Phil had obviously tried to wait up for him but at some point became so tired he’d fallen asleep with his glasses on and a book still on his chest. Dan slipped his glasses off, careful not to wake him, and removed the book too. He padded around, stripping down to his pants and putting his and Phil’s discarded clothes in the hamper. It was overflowing. Neither of them had been up for much housework lately. It was well past midnight, but Dan had a sudden urge to start some laundry, clean the bathroom or the kitchen. Anything to avoid trying to sleep with so many thoughts crowding his head. He turned to Phil instead.

“C’mon babe, you’ll get a crick like that.” Phil’s eyes fluttered open, just a little, and he hummed an acknowledgement. He didn’t even wake up really, just scooted down into the bed, automatically pulling Dan against him. Even as the taller and bigger of the two, Dan still always loved being the little spoon most. He didn’t think he would sleep, not for a long time, but being wrapped up in Phil was exactly right, right then. 

**December**

Dan was half asleep, deep in his sofa crease when he heard Phil coming down the stairs. “What're you doin’?

“Hey, you,” Phil answered. Which wasn’t quite an answer, but Dan wasn’t quite awake either. Phil paused, smiling down at him before coming to sit next to him. Right next to him. Everything was thrown off balance and Dan would have tipped into him, if he hadn’t been so settled into the crease. Instead his back just gave a twinge as his hips were shifted. 

“Ugh, ow.” 

“Yeah, you’ve been here hours,” Phil said. He took the laptop from Dan and offered him a hand to stand. 

“You’re still up,” Dan said stupidly. Phil laughed and tugged him into a hug by the waist. 

“I was making sure all the footage was saved and looking through some of it.” 

“Your jumper is scratchy,” Dan said. He’d put his cheek on Phil’s shoulder by reflex, seeking the warmth of his neck to tuck his face into. 

“C’mon, lets go get these jumpers off.” 

Dan followed, feet a bit clumsy. Phil held his hand the whole way. He stood by the bed, swaying a bit, thinking of what steps should be taken first to make the getting to sleep process happen fastest, when Phil came up behind him. 

“Long day, huh?” Phil’s hands pulled on the hem of Dan’s sweater and he lifted his arms automatically. 

“The longest.” Dan’s voice was muffled by the sweater caught on his chin. “These ‘day in the life’ things are so exhausting.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Phil said, hands on Dan’s waist. “We got a lot done, but it was fun! We got the tree up. We had some mulled wine—” 

“ _I_ had mulled wine, you spork, _you_ had an accident.” 

“Well I got some in me first, didn't I?” Phil’s breath ghosted over the back of Dan’s neck and shivers crawled through him. He twisted away. 

“Phil, ugh, no neck right now please.”

“It was a productive day,” Phil said. He moved his lips away from Dan’s neck, but was otherwise undeterred. He grinned and tugged on Dan’s belt loops. He’d never changed out of his filming clothes and could feel now how uncomfortable he was. A slight suspicion burrowed in his mind. Still, he dutifully stepped out of his jeans as Phil helped ease them off, hands on his shoulders for balance and gave a sigh of relief. 

Until Phil knelt and kissed the crease mark that lined his thigh. 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan said warningly. 

“What?” Phil’s hair was back in the quiff he got when he’d been at the computer too long, hair pushed back and wild. He was the picture of innocence. Dan touched it and smiled but pulled back, thunking heavily on the bed behind him. 

“I’m not fooled by you for a moment.” Dan tried to glare when Phil shuffled his way between Dan’s knees. His palms were very warm, and very sure, wide on his thighs.

“It won’t take long,” Phil promised him seriously. He was now tugging Dan’s undershirt off. 

“My acquiescence here,” Dan said, raising his arms to help, “does not in any way mean I am giving in. Help getting undressed just means I get to go to bed faster, is all.” 

“Who said giving in? This is a mutually beneficial proposal.” Phil’s thumbs were now in the creases where his thighs met pelvis, over his pants. 

“ _Phi-il_ , I’m so tired, c’mon.” 

“But Dan, I was promised sex.” Phil’s smile was a touch wicked, his eyes squinted in that way they got when he was feeling naughty. 

“What are you on about?” 

“At the astrology clock thing,” Phil, completely undeterred by Dan’s words, was now kissing his shoulders. Dan would be pissed, only his body was betraying him, leaning in to the touch despite his exhaustion. 

“That was a bit for the camera you twat,” Dan said. 

“You smell so good Dan,” Phil said instead, nosing behind Dan’s ear, more mindful of where his lips and breath went. Dan shivered, only this time in the good way. 

“Dammit. Okay, a handjob, that’s all.” 

“But _Daaaaaan_.” Phil pushed him back gently, and climbed on to him. 

“You’re still dressed,” Dan said, somewhat stupidly, knowing it was a token protest. He was already hard. Damn, betrayed by his own body at every turn. 

“Yes, I wanted to appreciate you,” Phil said absently, busy running his hands over Dan’s naked stomach and chest. 

“A handjob,” Dan reiterated. He slapped his hands on top of Phil’s. 

“Sex,” Phil said, leaning over and biting Dan’s lower lip gently. 

“A handjob is sex you spoon.” 

“I know,” Phil said. He did the eyebrows, which was totally unfair, and he knew it, that cheeky bastard. 

“Phil, what is this about?” Dan asked. He kept his voice quiet, serious but not upset. Phil looked at him for a long, long time. Dan squirmed a bit under the look. He was used to Phil looking at him of course, sometimes for long periods of time, but this one—head tilted, eyes soft, lips parted—was heavy in the moment. It was Phil’s _God, I love you so much_ look. Dan couldn’t think of a thing he’d done recently to deserve it. 

“You’ll laugh,” Phil said after a drawn out pause. 

“I promise I won’t,” Dan said, and meant it. He was a little cold, and still tired; his confused body wanted to sleep, wanted to get off, wanted to preen under that gaze—but only if he knew he deserved it. 

“The sweater paws,” Phil said. 

Dan gave a half-laugh and squinted up at him. “Come again?” 

“When I was looking over the footage. Before we decided to do the endscreen, I came down the stairs filming you. You were in the crease and your smile was so sweet, and your hands were doing the sweater paws.” Phil bent down then. Dan tilted his chin to receive the kiss but Phil kissed his eyebrow instead. One and then the opposite cheek. “You look beautiful in green, you know.” 

“Phil.” Dan looked away. 

“And soft. Tired a little. But your smile…” Phil touched his lips. “I was thinking too, when I was looking at the video.” 

“Oh, not thinking,” Dan said. Sarcasm was good, perfectly timed. A second skin to cover himself in. He felt immediately less naked. 

“This year has really been something, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Dan said. So this was it then; Phil was feeling maudlin. He could work with that. “We made good choices, I think.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, “you make me so happy.” 

A blink, a breath, and Dan was laid bare again, only Phil was closer, bent over him. Dan kept his eyes on Phil’s, hands slid under Phil’s jumper where his skin was soft and familiar. 

“You make me happy too,” Dan said. 

“It’s been a wonderful year. And people love you. They have, always. But this video…” Phil kissed him then, very, very softly. “There were moments when you were _my_ Dan, just for a bit.” 

Dan cleared his throat. He gripped Phil’s hips, right where they were soft and carried a gorgeous give Dan loved to hold on to. 

“I don’t want to share you with the world, not really,” Phil admitted. “Not all of you. But those little pieces. I can’t—it’s hard to think what I want to say.” Phil twisted his lips, the ghost of a self-deprecating smile touching his face. “But I want to share that bit. Little ones. I don’t want to share you, but I want the world to love the person you really are.” 

“That’s,” Dan started, then licked his lips. 

“We know I’m shit at words mostly,” Phil said. “But I’m not with everything else. I watched that footage of you with your stupid sweater paws and there was this really big feeling, and I just…” 

“Wanted,” Dan said, faint and _oh_ if he were standing, he might know what it was really like, to feel weak in the knees. 

“Yeah,” Phil said, and kissed him, a real kiss, one that spun out like a fine ribbon, unraveling in the wind. Dan was that ribbon in Phil’s hands, unspooling, coming apart by degrees. They didn’t say _I love you_ , and Dan forgot his exhaustion up until it was over, until their bodies were tangled and heaving for breath sweaty and sticky and vibrating in the come down. They didn’t say _I love you_ as they parted to clean up and brush their teeth. Dan didn’t say it as he watched Phil take out his contacts, loathe to leave his side even for a minute. 

He was still unraveled, you see. Still so vulnerable, dangerously taken apart, but not really. Not with Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again, thanks to each person who has encouraged me along the way. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Never Look Away" by Vienna Teng


	7. 2015 || out in the garden where we planted some seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking and endless encyclopedic knowledge I shamelessly take advantage of.
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

**Rating: T**

** Tw: Mentions of depression  **

**January**

“What if we wrote fanfiction?”

“Wha’?” Phil’s face was buried in the steam rising from his coffee. His morning quiff was a work of art; his eyes were red rimmed behind his glasses. Dan thought maybe his own face looked much the same, only with puffier eyes and a few pillow creases on his cheek. His neck was sore as fuck. He’d fallen asleep face mushed against the pillow sometime around four a.m. when they’d finally called it quits on trying to get a handle on administrative work. The plan had been to do emails and then write.

Nothing was going to plan like they’d wanted, honestly. 

“For chapters. We could each write fanfiction.” 

“You’re kidding,” Phil said flatly. He didn't bother to look at Dan. Dan flexed his fingers around his own mug and tried not to take it personally. 

“The fans will love it. They know we know; it’ll be like an inside joke.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, not even trying to keep the weary annoyance at bay. Dan bit his lip and tilted so his head was pillowed against the couch. They were too tired for this. They’d meant to write last night, so they could have the morning, just one morning, for a break. 

“Well we don’t have to talk about it now,” Dan said, tone snippier than he meant it to be. He sighed and poked Phil’s thigh with a socked toe. Phil reached down and squeezed his foot.

“It’s so hard to think right now. Are we sure my brain didn’t melt last night?”

“Well I didn’t see any goop in the bed this morning,” Dan said. Phil huffed a laugh. 

“No there wouldn’t be, would there?” It wasn’t a jab at their sex life, exactly, but it felt like one.

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan spoke softly. Phil kept his hand on Dan’s foot; it was nice, a grounding point. Dan had never before been so tired that the thought of being touched would make his skin crawl, but there had been nights this last month where he’d almost slept in the extra bed. Phil, always tactile, was respectful but confused and lately, maybe a little hurt by how often Dan rebuffed his touch. He’d tried apologizing a week before and Phil had brushed it off, saying it was fine; he knew it wasn’t personal. The assured Dan that he never, ever had to apologize for not wanting to be touched, much less communicating that. 

If the shoe had been on the other foot, Dan knew he’d say the same. Hell he’d _mean_ it. Still, a person could still know it wasn’t personal and still feel disoriented from the disconnect. Especially Phil, who tended to bottle things up for long periods of time.

“Soz, I didn’t mean it like that, I promise,” Phil said, eyes wide and worried. Dan wasn’t sure really, what to say, so he just wiggled his toes and sipped his coffee and tried to remember any of the other ideas he’d had for the book that wouldn’t sound stupid right now. 

“The Vegas film!” Phil shouted. Dan, who’d been drifting back into sleep, startled enough that his almost empty cup of coffee sloshed all over his hand. 

“Jesus Phil, what the fuck?” Dan licked his hand clean. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just—and then…”

“There is no Vegas footage dingus,” Dan said. He stretched to put the mug on the table as both he and Phil were a menace to themselves at that moment. 

“I know, but your fanfiction idea made me think: what if we said we were going to explain and then made up the most ridiculous story?”

“You said my fanfiction idea was rubbish!”

“No I didn’t!” 

“Did so!” 

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil said. 

“Yes, right, focus.” They’d agreed when they first cooked up this idea together: no ideas were too dumb. Nothing would ever get vetoed out of hand, but only with careful consideration. Sometimes the best ideas came from some pretty weird or completely nonsensical spaces and that _worked_ for them. They put every idea in a document and also on the wall with a large sticky note. If anything came to them, they’d add ideas or notes to the document. 

All of this, Dan remembered, meant Phil had not been implying that Dan’s idea was rubbish. Dan was tired, Phil was tired, and they had few reserves for filtering anything. Dan’s hurt feelings aside, Phil’s idea had merit. They could have a lot of fun with this one; there was a level of creative writing that could go into it that excited Dan and if they managed to write it correctly, the fans would think it was funny. 

“What if…” 

“What if what?” Phil prompted. His eyes were slightly clearer, their unique blue bright in the sunlight that spilled through the window. Maybe it would be a nice day. Dan should run errands. Get out of the apartment. 

What a joke. Realistically, there was a small chance that would happen. Particularly if he continued to feel as tired as he was now. His bones ached. He was also mildly nauseated and shaky. 

“What if we included a copy of the PINOF questions?” 

“D’you still have those?” Phil set his coffee down, eyes wide and surprised. 

“Well when would I have thrown them away? I still have my box don’t I?” 

“Oh, right.” Phil smiled, sweet and fond. “I guess I hadn’t thought of them in a while, is all.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. He ran his fingers through his tangled curls. He _was_ shaking; he hadn’t imagined that. 

“You all right?” Phil sat up and laid a hand on Dan’s knee. 

“Just tired, I suppose.” 

Phil looked him over for a long moment. 

“You need breakfast.” 

“No, Phil, I’m fine.” 

Phil scooted closer and kissed him, so soft and very sweet. He brushed the curls off of Dan’s forehead. “Food.” 

“Okay,” Dan relented. He shifted to stand. 

“No, babe, stay.” Phil pressed a cold palm to Dan’s shoulder and kissed his forehead. 

After, Dan curled into Phil on the couch. They still had to work on the book, but they were both so full, and Phil had been so sweet, all soft touches and lingering looks, during breakfast. Dan had turned on their ritual morning anime and then pressed himself into a tiny ball against Phil. It took some shifting to get comfortable like Dan wanted, but they got there. Sometimes, Dan just wanted to feel small. Wanted to have Phil wrapped all around him. He was bigger than Phil, which made that hard, but they adapted. Every now and then Phil would kiss the top of Dan’s head and Dan would grip Phil’s knee and sigh. His body tingled with wanting just this kind of closeness. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” he whispered as one episode bled into the other. 

“What?” Phil paused so he could hear. 

“I’m sorry. I know sometimes you want to be close, and I’ve been so tired, but I don’t like the idea of you feeling alone or…” Dan tried to find a way to word the sentiment. Being in Phil’s arms right now was down-to-the-bones right. Something Dan woke up needing without knowing he needed it. It was an awful feeling, to know that Phil maybe wanted that too, sometimes, and that Dan was denying it. 

“Dan, really, please don’t apologize,” Phil begged. “It’s _so_ okay for you to want space. If you don’t want to be touched, I don’t want to touch you.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said, small and so quiet it was barely a whisper. 

“You’re sticking around; I’m sticking around. We have years to fill the touch quota.” 

Dan laughed and tilted his head up. “There’s a quota?” 

“Yes,” Phil said. He kissed Dan’s forehead and nose and although the angle was difficult, Dan’s lips. They lingered, long enough for Dan to move and make access easier. Lovely warmth permeated Dan’s bones, washing away some of the exhaustion. Sweet morning kisses shared in the sun. _I love you kisses_ , _I miss you kisses_ , _you’re so special to me kisses_. “Infinite,” Phil murmured against Dan’s lips. 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Dan laughed into the next kiss before finally pulling away and tucking his face into Phil’s neck. Phil smelled a little morning sweaty. It was very, very Phil. 

“Not everything has to,” Phil said matter of factly, in that utterly Phil way he had. Final, like it was a fact, like the saying of it manifested truth to the words. 

“Okay,” Dan said. He didn’t want to argue anyway, because infinite kisses, while an impossibility, sounded wonderful. Too bad they couldn’t put that in their book. In this amazing, crazy world Dan and Phil had made, sometimes he mourned that he couldn’t share this aspect, the best part of their world. The thought flitted in and out sometimes. He’d never _really_ want that, not in their real life context. Still, he loved Phil in an otherworldly, so big way, it was hard to keep that to himself sometimes. 

Only sometimes. The rest of the time, Dan hoarded their relationship, each kiss and touch and gesture, even the hard times, like a personal treasure. A closely guarded secret that was special because it was theirs, just theirs, and no one else's. 

“How do you feel about a shower?” Phil said, apropos of nothing. 

“That a hint mate?” Dan sniffed his armpit. 

“No, it was an invitation,” Phil said, funny little smile tipping one side of his mouth. 

“Am I getting my hair washed?” 

“Only if I am too,” Phil countered. Dan stuck his hand out, as if shaking on a business transaction, but once Phil took it, Dan took it, pulling Phil off the couch in a tangle of limbs. 

Later, washed and wrung out and sated, boneless in their bed, Phil turned onto his side, nosed at Dan’s arm and whispered, “Maybe fanfiction wouldn’t be so bad.”

**March**

“Dan,” Phil said. “ _Dan_.”

“Mm?” 

Phil poked him with a toe, missing slightly and accidentally catching Dan’s laptop instead of his thigh. Dan rebalanced his computer without looking up. He was so deep in their sofa crease Phil could tell he hadn’t gotten up in hours. He had an empty glass next to him Phil thought probably hadn’t been refilled in a long time. 

He hadn’t noticed at first, but he was pretty sure that the moment they’d gotten proofs of the pages, Dan had sat and began reading, and re-reading, doubting himself, then double checking for errors. They both had to do it, and Phil _was_. He was just doing so in bursts. After a while, everything had started to blur, words and pictures that weren’t registering at all. They’d read this book so many times, Phil knew his brain was seeing what was meant to be there. Which meant he was missing errors. 

Phil got up and grabbed Dan’s empty mug. He’d been drinking tea from the looks of it, but the mug was stone cold to the touch. Dan had been sitting in the same spot for ages. Phil refilled a reusable water bottle, put some ice in it and came to sit directly next to Dan. He was clicking, word by word, on each word of the page he was on. 

“Dan, please tell me you’re not reading the whole book that way?” Phil asked. He was mildly horrified. At that rate it would take Dan ages to complete. And he knew Dan. “You’ll never sleep, Dan we _need_ sleep. We’ve meetings in the morning.” 

“It’s fine,” Dan said. He clicked on the next word, and then the next. 

“Dan,” Phil said. He lifted the computer straight out of Dan’s lap, ignoring his cry of indignation, and then sat on his lap. There were shadows under Dan’s eyes bruised so dark Phil didn’t think any makeup would cover them. “Babe,” he whispered, thumbs smoothing them as if he could wish the sleeplessness and stress away. 

“Phil, I really want to get that done,” Dan said. He didn’t push Phil off but he did shift. And wince. 

“You’ve been sat here for hours,” Phil informed him. “This isn’t good. This can’t be good for the book.” 

“I know,” Dan said and closed his eyes. He leaned his head back against the couch and sighed when Phil carded his fingers through greasy curls. When had Dan last showered? “It all just kept blurring together. I realized yesterday I was reading and read a whole chapter and hadn’t taken anything in. Nothing!”

“That happened to me too Da—” 

“—so I tried harder and then everything, _everything_ sounded like shit and I realized we can’t make major changes, we can’t rewrite, we can’t take it back, there—”

Phil interrupted him with a kiss, a hard press of his lips, Dan’s face cradled between his palms. 

“Dan,” he said. “I say this with love. Shut up. And listen.” 

Dan inhaled long and slow and then exhaled. Phil could see his thoughts racing, how hard it was for him to inhale again, slower. His hands were on Phil’s hips, fisting the material of his shirt and pants at his waist. 

“The book is good. We’re proud of it.”

Dan nodded tentatively. 

“No. No doubts. Remember, we have to believe in ourselves. We’ve worked really fucking hard for this. It’s good. We’re proud of it no matter what.”

“We’re proud of it,” Dan repeated. 

“It was always going to be hard, and they told us it would be when we got to the stage where we’d read it this many times. There are no more big changes. That’s okay. There are many sets of eyes on it. It’s not all on us.” The words sat funny on his tongue, and Phil knew they sat poorly with Dan too. 

“I know that one is weird, but that’s the nature of it. We’ve controlled as much as we humanly can with this one.” 

Dan sat up, just enough to kiss Phil’s cheek. His hands relaxed, holding Phil’s hips rather than wrecking the weave of the fabrics. “Yeah.” 

Phil checked the time on Dan’s phone, which was charging on the arm of the couch next to him. It was going on ten, not too late, but they needed an earlier night tonight. They’d promised themselves one. They had back to back meetings the next day. Which wasn’t any more or less work than they’d been doing necessarily. But it was work that involved getting dressed, transporting themselves, putting on business faces. It was a whole different world of energy output when they both had so, so little to spare. 

“How much do you have left?” 

Dan sat up and peeked around Phil, who held tight to him in a sort of koala grip. 

“Well I read it through once, and I’m halfway through this time.” 

“Once already?” Phil said. “How on earth?” 

“I...have probably skipped everything important a human does in a day except for go to the loo,” Dan admitted. 

Phil groaned, wishing he hadn’t taken a lunch meeting with Martyn. That he’d paid better attention. 

“Phil we are on such a tight deadline—” 

“No.” Phil was not having this. He was exhausted. Dan was exhausted. “This is important but you are more important. _We_ are. It’s part of the deal, right?” 

“Yes,” Dan said, firmly enough that Phil sighed. “I’m sorry. I got hyper fixated after I found some typos in a chapter I’d read already.” 

“Mood.” Phil sighed. His whole body hurt in a strange way, as if his skin was tight all over his body. Not his muscles necessarily, but everything over his muscles. He felt, quite honestly, like a walking full-body bruise. “Well, I’m no speed reader, but I am almost done with my go.” 

“Oh good,” Dan said, and smiled. 

“I want you to go shower,” Phil said. He thumbed the dark half-moons under Dan’s eyes. “And then bed.” 

“Phil—” 

“Look I know we have to have these done ASAP. But we’re no good to it like this. And we have _way_ too fucking much to do in the next week to afford getting sick or crashing.” 

Dan’s chin tipped down. His fingers fiddled with the hem of Phil’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil said quietly. “I’m not saying it to make you feel bad or broken or like there’s anything wrong with you. But you have to self-care.” 

“I know.” It was hard, Phil knew, for Dan to accept advice from others when it came to managing his depression. His back got up; he felt questioned and cornered. Phil never stepped in unless he felt it absolutely necessary. They’d talked about it so many times, times when Phil struggled with watching Dan struggle. Knowing he had to let Dan work things through on his own, that he’d feel better, more in control, more empowered when he managed his own wellness, helped. They’d agreed that Phil would not speak up or step in unless he was truly worried or felt that Dan couldn’t see a spiral coming. 

This was one of those times. Quite frankly they couldn’t afford it. Once these meetings were done and the book was off to print they had downtime coming to them. They’d earned it. They just had to get to it. He really didn’t want to spend that time ill, which often happened to Phil when he overworked—the moment his body could rest, it fell apart. Same with Dan. He either got sick or fell into a depression. 

“If I’m almost done with my pass and you have already done one, you can look through it again after the meetings tomorrow. I promise,” Phil said. 

“You’re right.” Dan’s smile was a shadow when his eyes met Phil’s, but it was there. Tiny and exhausted, but true. “I’ll go shower.” 

“Good.” Phil climbed off of him, groaning at how stiff his knees felt. 

“Have we—” Dan cleared his throat and took a long pull of water from the bottle. “Have we got any food?” 

“Yeah, I think we’ve some leftovers from takeaway day before yesterday,” Phil said. “Or I can make you something easy?” 

“I’ll look before I shower,” Dan said. He pulled Phil to his feet when he stood and they both groaned. He didn’t let go of Phil’s hand; rather he tugged him along as he walked to the kitchen, where there were indeed leftovers. 

“Want me to get them re-” 

Dan cut him off with a kiss. “No, come with me.” 

“To shower?” Phil tried to keep the skepticism from his voice. 

“You look tense Phil,” Dan said. “I am too. Shower massage?” Dan was too cute for his own good sometimes. Or for Phil’s own good. 

“I’m sorry Dan but I am really not up for—” 

“Phil, I could not get it up if you brought a troupe of strippers in here for me,” Dan said, sounding wry but also brittle. 

“I doubt that would work for you anyway,” Phil joked. He got a half snort, which was good. “You just want company then?”

“Yeah. You. Relax.” 

Dan was losing words, which meant he was well and truly done. He turned the water on and began to strip, weariness in each movement. Phil shut the door to keep the steam and warmth in. 

“You’re wrecked bub,” he said. “All I needed was to take your computer from you, eh?” 

Dan caught his hand. “No, I needed you. If you’d taken it and walked away that would have ended very differently.” 

Phil stripped, picturing it for a moment. Yeah, that would have led to a huge row. They’d been doing well, but were walking a razor’s edge of being overworked, overextended, over exhausted on the same projects, in the same spaces, all the time. 

He stepped into the steam of the too-hot shower with Dan and ran his fingers through Dan’s hair. 

“In our forever house, can we have a shower with two heads?” Phil asked. 

“Phil, I’d get you a shower with seventy-five heads if it meant you’d wash my hair for me.” Dan’s eyes were closed and when Phil began to lather his hair, he could actually see Dan’s shoulders begin to relax. Dan sighed and swayed into the touch. Phil shivered a bit, out of the water save for some spray coming from Dan. 

“C’mere,” Dan said, pulling Phil into a hug. Much better. Even wet, Dan was warmth. Dan tipped his head back when it was time to rinse, trusting Phil to keep the suds from his eyes. 

“There you go,” Phil said. There was something about that trust, that stripped down, deeply intimate trust that filled him up with a kind of love Phil couldn’t name. It pressed hard against his chest. He wished he were the kind of writer who could name each love he felt for Dan, but everything came out trite or clichéd or stupid. There really weren’t words for having a man who trusted almost no one, not even himself, trusting you completely. 

“Hey,” Dan said, wiping water from his face when Phil was done. “You all right?” 

Phil could tell his smile was wobbly. “Yeah.” He let Dan steer him under the spray. “Tired. Too much.” He didn't have enough words, but he figured Dan knew. Dan kissed him very carefully, and washed his hair. Used their best soap to massage Phil’s shoulders and arms and hands. Sighed happily into Phil’s reciprocating touch. 

Dan was noodly and exhausted, clumsy and yawning when they were done. “Bed?” he asked hopefully. He leaned up against the sink, letting Phil scrub excess water from his hair with a towel. 

“Food,” Phil said. He had to be firm, even though he too wanted to go to bed more than anything. 

“I’m so tired Phil, I’m not even hungry.” 

“You still need to eat, love.” 

Dan’s eyes opened and stayed on Phil’s for a long moment. Phil forced himself to look back without flinching, to let himself be vulnerable, even if he hadn’t meant the word to slip out. 

“All right then,” Dan said. “I’ll go eat. You go get in bed.”

“Not without you,” Phil insisted. 

“Well at least do your moisturizing thing. Get us some water. Do things and I’ll eat fast.” 

“Not too fast—”

“All right Mum, that’s enough,” Dan said, turning Phil by his towel covered shoulders and pushing him gently out of the bathroom. 

“ _Fuck a duck_ it’s cold!” Phil said. 

“So get dressed then dingus.”

* * *

Last meeting of the day done, Dan barely paused before flopping onto the couch with his laptop. Phil was in the kitchen doing something or another; when he came out and saw Dan, little frown lines appeared between his eyebrows. 

“I just want to get it done with,” Dan said. “It won’t be like last night. But we’ve a list a mile long to do now.” Which was true. Their meetings had been fruitful, and things were looking well on track for their tour plans. But only if they were really organized and committed to getting things done on time. Dan could absolutely not procrastinate any of this. 

Although, he’d discovered in the last few months that when the work ended in a tangible goal he really wanted, it was so much easier to do. Especially when there was so much of it. He was so invested in the future they’d begun to map out for the year, there wasn’t really room for procrastination. Dan was exhausted—Phil was exhausted. But in a weird, maybe masochistic way, he _liked_ it. Mostly. 

“It’s crazy,” Phil said without preamble. He’d set a hot tea next to Dan. Steam rose from the mug, tempting him. Phil always made the perfect tea for Dan. Somehow the coffee was always too sweet but the tea on point. 

“What is?” Dan was already reading, only half listening. 

“How much there is to do, all at once, and then once this is done and off...nothing.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said dreamily. “Imagine, an actual holiday. We should have planned that.” 

“Hm.” Phil blew on his coffee, curls of steam dissipating. It was too late for coffee, really. Well for Dan. Phil seemed able to drink it at any time. “If only we’d known.” 

Truly, they hadn’t known how their schedule would turn out, that they’d end up with a chunk of open time before they’d have to buckle down for the next round of planning and executing. 

“Quick answer: goal vacation?” Dan said. He tilted the screen of his laptop down and watched Phil think. 

“Japan,” Phil said. 

_“Ohhh._ ” Japan was _the_ dream. The ultimate. They’d been so many places together, had so many places they wanted to go. Japan was the kind of wish they rarely spoke of sometimes. It was that sort of dream, something magical, maybe a little untouchable. “Yeah, in a perfect world.”

“Why in a perfect world though?” Phil sat up and set his coffee down hard enough that some sloshed over the edge. Dan winced. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Like, why do we act like we _can’t_ go, when we _do_ go other places?”

“I don’t know,” Dan said slowly. “Language barrier? Time? We travel for work or with people?” Truth was, Dan might be able to come up with a dozen reasons for this that suddenly seemed silly. 

“Nope,” Phil said. He grabbed his computer. Dan watched for a few moments, trying to figure out if Phil was ending the conversation. When Phil didn’t add to the statement after a few moments, Dan went back to work. If it was important, Phil would tell him what he was thinking eventually. 

A good half hour later, Phil making grumbling noises and chattering to himself under his breath, Dan found he was close to being done. Proofing really did go a lot faster without hyperfixation borne of intense anxiety. 

“Done,” Phil said, slamming the lid of his laptop closed. 

“You finished proofing?” Dan asked. Maybe if Dan got a move on they could spend some time together _not_ working tonight. Catch up on a show or two. 

“No.” Phil turned to face him. “I booked tickets. To Japan.” 

“You…” Dan blinked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a notification for an email pop up. 

“Check it,” Phil said. 

It was forwarded email from Phil containing an itinerary of flights booked to and from Japan. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Phil said. “I’m tired of...everything on hold.” 

Dan bit his lip and wondered what Phil had kept back in that pause. 

“I mean in our lives. There are a lot of things we’ve dreamed for ourselves that have to do with our careers. Because we love them, and this makes us happy. But we also need to dream about things just for us.”

“We do,” Dan said. Phil took his hand. They had a plan, a tentative one. One less sure than the book and the tour and everything else. Coming out, a forever home. Things that hinged on a lot more than logistics and money. 

“Yes. And there isn’t a rush on those things. Those things’ll happen when it’s right and we’re ready. But Dan—” Phil scooted closer, cross legged so his knees were touching Dan’s thigh and hip. “Some things that are just for us we _can_ have now. It can’t all just be about the work things.” 

“But…” Dan was scanning the email. Last minute tickets to Japan were _expensive_. “This is so not like you.”

Phil’s smile was brilliant, and lovely, and something Dan just had to kiss, over and over. 

“You really wanna do this?” Dan whispered between kisses, hardly able to believe it. 

“It’s already done,” Phil said emphatically, easily, like he didn’t realize Dan’s heart was in his hands. Phil combed Dan’s hair off his forehead and smiled and oh, Dan was wrong. Phil knew. 

**April**  
“No vlogging,” Phil said, climbing back into bed after a quick trip to the loo.

“Good morning to you too,” Dan said. He pushed Phil’s morning quiff off his forehead. Dan was still shirtless, sat propped against the headboard, covers pulled up under his armpits. He didn’t even have his laptop out. Odd, that seeing Dan without a laptop or computer was what made this truly feel like holiday. Of course they had to take time to work this week, and of course Dan would be right back on the internet soon enough, both for play and for work. Neither of them ever could go far without a WiFi password. But for now, it was just them.

Phil’s throat was scratchy from the dry hotel air and his body ached from a too-long sleep in a new bed. Tomorrow they were meeting Duncan and Mimei to film their DITL. Dan had unpacked their suitcases almost immediately the night before setting to rights what Phil would probably just have strewn about. Phil didn’t see why Dan felt compelled to put everything away since things generally ended up strewn about by the end of any trip anyway. Still he had been content enough to watch Dan pick drawers at random for their pants and socks while chattering where they should go during the week. 

They had a list, of course. Dan and Mimei had texted all day, coming up with ideas for places that might be nice for them to visit. 

“D’you reckon we could go back to some places?” Dan asked, then cleared his throat. 

“Want some water?” Phil reached over for the glass he’d gotten himself when he’d woken with a dry throat when Dan nodded. 

“Thanks,” Dan said, draining it. He scooted down and rested his head on Phil’s belly, then nudged his forehead against the soft skin until Phil got the hint and started playing with his curls. 

“Weather should be nice,” Phil said, one hand in Dan’s hair and the other scrolling on his phone. 

“Phil?” Dan said. His voice was still a little sleep drowsy, and what with the arm he threw over Phil’s lap to squeeze him closer, it was all rather cute. 

“Yeah?” Phil started scrolling through his twitter feed. 

“Are we going to finish any of the conversations we’ve started this morning?” Dan accidentally dislodged Phil’s hand when he propped himself up to look at Phil properly. Phil didn’t object when Dan took the phone from him and put it on the bedside table gently. 

“No vlogging other than tomorrow. Please.” 

“Of course,” Dan said, settling back down into his koala snuggle. “I was thinking...I want to see some places without a camera.” 

“We’re going to see lots of places Dan,” Phil said gently. “We have a week.” 

“I just don’t want to miss anything.” Dan bit a squishy bit of Phil’s tummy. 

“Hey, none of that now. I need a shower.” Phil tapped Dan’s head. “What’s this about then? What are you worried you’ll miss?” 

Dan shrugged. Phil leaned into the silence; Dan was thinking, feeling, something important. It wasn’t his place to rush it out of him. 

“Tomorrow, if there’s something...I dunno,” Dan shrugged. Phil wished he could see Dan’s face to understand what was going on here. 

“Something…?” 

“Special,” Dan whispered. 

“Can we go back without cameras or other people you mean?” Phil finally figured. 

“Yeah. I mean I know we have a lot we want to do but—” 

“Dan, this is _our_ trip. We get to do whatever we want. Tomorrow is work. Everything else is holiday, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Dan said, and then bit Phil again, despite his protests.

* * *

“No, no,” Dan instructed Phil. “Turn your head a little to the left.” Phil did as instructed, overcorrecting yet again. Dan sighed. “ _Phil_.”

“What?” Phil said, only a little defensive. A wind kicked up, scattering flower petals everywhere. Some landed in Phil’s hair, and Dan had to resist the urge to brush them off. He never really had the urge to touch Phil like that, with simple intimacy, in public anymore. A few years of training themselves to parcel affection and intimacy at home, only without cameras, was second nature. But they weren’t _Dan and Phil_ in Japan like they were elsewhere. They’d wandered far from even Duncan and Mimei. There was a hush, only the sound of the wind through the flowers and small snatches of far away conversation, that left him feeling safe. Protected from constant gaze. 

“Dan?” 

“Sorry,” Dan said and made himself smile. “Move in small increments, remember?” Phil always complained he couldn’t take a good picture of himself. He’d joke that only Dan could work some magic that made him look halfway good. 

“Well, if it’ll make me gorgeous,” Phil said, sticking his tongue out and laughing. He never could take Dan seriously when he was taking himself too seriously. 

“Phil,” Dan said quietly, making sure Phil was looking at him when he spoke. “You _are_ gorgeous.” 

“Shut up, rat,” Phil said, poking Dan’s shoulder. A touch that would mean nothing to a passerby, words that would read as banter if spoken in front of anyone else. But it wasn’t and Dan knew it. It was love. It was also a little bit thank you, with some avoidance and discomfort with taking the compliments mixed in. Dan wanted to kiss him _so_ , to make sure Phil _knew_ the honesty in Dan’s compliment. 

Instead, he backed up and pulled up his phone again. “C’mon, you have to do mine in a bit.” 

“All right,” Phil said, then obediently stood by a tree where Dan had planted him in the first place. 

When they were done, Phil having _finally_ mastered Dan’s instructions as to tiny movements in order to catch the light dappling beautifully through the trees, Phil started taking indiscriminate pictures of Dan. 

“Work it cover girl,” he instructed, laughing at Dan who’d almost fallen, tripping ungracefully over an exposed tree root. 

“Stop, _Phi-il_ ,” Dan whined, trying to catch the too loud laughter before it carried on the wind. They were still alone, and everything felt drenched in magic. In romance. It was a mortifying sentiment, one he wouldn’t share with Phil necessarily, but he felt it in every laugh, in the teasing, the ballet slipper pink and cream blooms all around them. 

“Here then,” Phil said, directing Dan to stop with a hand on his shoulder. “There’s a really pretty shadow over your face from the flowers,” he explained. 

“All right.” Dan was dubious but he played along. He already knew how to move in small increments, but there was something Phil was trying to capture but wasn’t managing. Dan bit back a smile; Phil had gone all grumbly and his forehead was creased with a frown Dan wanted to smooth away with his thumb. A snatch of laughter drifted by, far away. 

“Dan,” Phil complained when Dan turned toward it to see if there was anyone nearby. 

“Shut up,” Dan said. Maybe it was the magic, or maybe just Japan. Maybe it was one of those too-much moments Dan used to have so often. Only just then it was the best kind, one where love made him incautious like they used to be. He reeled Phil in by the shirt and kissed him, just once, only the briefest meeting of their lips. Phil’s arm came round him then, pulling him in by the waist for another kiss. 

“Selfie!” Phil cried. Dan knew Phil’s voice would carry, that perhaps Duncan or Mimei would come find them soon, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was still laughing when he pressed his lips to Phil’s cheek, letting him capture the moment forever, just for them.

* * *

“So, anything you’d want to do again?” Phil asked Dan later that night. 

“Lots,” Dan said. His voice had gone quiet, thoughtful. He turned toward Phil, laying on his side in the dark. He could barely make out Phil’s face in the dark. “But maybe not this time.” 

“Oh?” 

“Maybe…” Dan skirted his fingers over the sweet rounding of Phil’s bare shoulder, along his clavicle and into the hollow of his neck. Phil shivered, then leaned back a little to accept the kisses Dan followed that touch with. 

“Maybe?” Phil prompted. Dan kissed his throat, then his chin, then the tips of Phil’s fingers when he brought them up to try to pause him. He knew Dan well enough to know when sex was a distraction, and Dan knew that he knew that. 

“Maybe one day we’ll come back,” Dan whispered with a small catch to the words and a shuddering inhale. 

“I’d like that,” Phil said, wondering. They’d already talked about coming back. 

“And maybe it’ll be different,” Dan continued. 

“Different how?” Phil touched Dan’s cheek, felt the ridges of his ear, the pad of his fingertip bumping over Dan’s earring. 

“I dunno. Things’ll be different,” Dan said, and shrugged, and surged a bit closer so that there was no mistaking the intent of his touch, or the need of his body. “If I ever get my shit together.” 

“ _Oh,_ ” Phil said, rolling onto his back. “You mean—” 

“One day, when we’re out,” Dan said, so sad and so brave, conflict trembling through his muscles. “You can take a picture of me, of us—” 

“And everyone will know I’m yours,” Phil promised. He leaned up to kiss Dan and hoped Dan knew, _knew_ in Phil’s touch and in the words that it was okay. That it would always be okay. That the future was open, that the two of them could do everything, that they would do everything and anything at _their_ pace, because they were promises they made only to each other. Because they owed the world nothing and each other everything. 

“And that I’m yours too,” Dan said, tears a thread in the lovely timber of his voice, gone a little husky like it did with strong emotion: when he was turned on, when he was deep in a moment. Phil hitched his leg ‘round Dan’s hip to pull him closer. Phil kissed him, and kissed him again, holding him as tight as he could, anonymous in the dark of a hotel room that would belong to many others over the years, in a city they’d fallen for and would fall for again, the only constant them, always them, together. 

**November**  
They were exhausted. An in-the-bones kind of exhausted. Like, so tired all Dan could possibly muster was getting out of bed, stuffing some food in his face, and then laying on the floor wondering where on earth Phil had gone off to. 

It was truly a testament to his exhaustion that Dan hadn’t even noticed Phil wasn’t in bed with him when he woke up. 

“Phil?” Dan called. He got no answer; still, he was relatively sure Phil hadn’t left the flat. He would have left a note. Dan just continued to call his name without moving from his spot on the floor, louder and louder until Phil finally shouted back. 

“What?” 

Dan rolled over and made his way to Phil’s room. Halfway there he could hear Phil’s _AmazingPhil_ voice and had to pause; Dan felt like some sort of shambling zombie and Phil was _making a video_ , of all things. He stood outside Phil’s door, out of sight, letting the sound of Phil’s voice wash over him. He was stumbling over his words a bit more than usual, but otherwise, he seemed his “normal” self: aka the person his fans would expect him to be. 

Dan was so often a part of Phil’s process—they both were a part of each others’ processes—that it was nice to observe, unnoticed. He slid down the wall he had been leaning against and curled his arms around his knees. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the lack of caffeine; maybe it was sheer gratitude at being home, but an overwhelming fondness rose up through him. Dan remembered this feeling, when being awed by Phil and loving Phil were so new, and so big. When they’d first gotten together, Dan had often found himself terrified by the depths of emotion Phil brought out in him. Dan had often felt big things. Or as Phil told him once, Dan felt things bigly. Dan had laughed, and tickled him, shouting arguments through breathlessness that _honestly_ , bigly wasn’t even a _word_ while Phil argued through shrieks of laughter that it _was_. 

But it was true. All of the really big things Dan had felt before Phil were the worst kind of feelings. Hopelessness and fear and self-loathing. Falling in love and being in love and the utter safety of Phil, just being with him were, well...amazing. 

But that was six years ago. Dan loved Phil more now than ever, but knew it was a different kind of love. Not better or worse, just the kind that grew organically from a shared life. 

Now, forehead on his crossed arms, so, so tired, Dan couldn’t believe how unprepared he was for how much he could still ache with loving Phil. The capacity of his own heart sometimes took Dan by surprise.

In front of the camera, Phil was talking about the ridiculous home gym he’d bought, using that lovely, sort of but not quite self-deprecating humor that made him so relatable. Phil was joking about how any exercise that required more than five percent effort was something he wouldn’t do. Dan snorted, quietly. He’d said this to Dan when he’d opened the box; he’d tried to look put out at Dan’s laughter but only lasted about ten seconds before giving in. 

Dan remembered dragging him to bed, still teasing, pointing out afterward Phil definitely put in more than five percent effort for particular kinds of exercise. Phil had put the home gym back in the box the next day and they’d had spectacular sex for about a week before it was all forgotten. 

Phil had moved on to the ridiculous “stress mushroom” he’d bought. Dan had to bite his hand to hold back his laughter; he didn’t want Phil to know he was listening. He wanted to linger in this strange past-and-present bubble. To let himself taste the nostalgia of being so impressed by Phil’s humor. 

Sometimes Dan had to actively work to swallow down some sharp words about their fans, about how so many of them just didn’t get it. Didn’t get Phil. Phil was so fucking underappreciated, Phil’s subtle and intelligent humor, his comedy. How smart and driven he was. There were so many sides to Phil no one saw and Dan wished he could shout about them, make people see and understand how brilliant his man was. 

People thought Dan’s jokes about being Phil trash were just that—jokes. References to a past when he’d stalked his favourite YouTuber. They weren’t though. They were so, so true. Dan told Phil all the time, how smart and funny he was. He found different words for it, found ways to make sure the words would be heard by Phil as being genuine. Phil was sensitive to false praise, or what he _thought_ was false praise. 

Dan never complimented Phil when he didn’t mean it. 

He was still quietly giggling, just imagining whatever suggestive thing Phil must be doing with that stupid, creepy mushroom—it had the weirdest texture, okay?—when Phil came out. 

“Oh shit!” Phil startled and bumped into the doorframe. “Dan! What are you doing?” 

Dan held out his hands. “C’mere,” he said, tugging Phil down instead of having Phil pull him up. 

“You all right?” Phil pushed Dan’s wild hair off of his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Dan said. “I mean, I’m tired, of course.” Phil’s lips tightened, eyes worried. “Regular exhausted,” Dan said to assuage Phil’s concern. 

“So what are you doing out here you div?” Phil shifted as close to Dan as he could, crossed legs poking Dan’s leg. 

“Just listening,” Dan said. He rested his head against the wall. “I can’t believe you made a video and we’ve only been home a day.” 

“Wanted to get it over with,” Phil said. He put his head on Dan’s knee, all scrunched up and awkward angles. 

“You’re brilliant, you know?” Dan said without meaning to. Phil’s eyes went a little wide. 

“M’not, not really,” Phil said, and a tiny piece of Dan’s chest hurt, hearing Phil mean it. 

“You are truly one of a kind, Phil Lester,” he said, taking Phil’s face and cupping his cheeks to keep him from shaking his head. He put a thumb over Phil’s lips. “And I am so lucky to have you.” 

Phil’s head tilted, a question in a single gesture, silent only because Dan had asked for it in a gesture of his own. He smiled when Dan smiled and leaned into Dan’s kiss as well. Dan didn’t have to work to pour everything he felt into the kiss. The sentiment and the meaning just _were_. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Phil asked when he pulled back.

“Of course, spoon.” Dan uncurled, jostling Phil. “Don’t get a big head about it.” 

“My head’s already big enough,” Phil said, then yawned. He let Dan pull him up. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Dan said, tugging on Phil’s hand. He traced the edge of Phil’s ear and kissed him, so soft and fond and feeling a little laid bare. More needy now, echoes of the waves of emotion he’d been sitting with while listening. Phil kissed him back, only pulling away to give Dan another searching look. “No, let’s not,” Dan said, still not wanting to talk about it. “Can we just, I don’t know, cuddle or something?” 

“Of course,” Phil said. “Sounds perfect.” 

“No talking,” Dan said. 

“Well, maybe later.” Phil climbed into bed next to Dan. 

“Small spoon please,” Dan said, inhaling deeply. Their sheets were redolent with the scent of home. Logically, there was nothing terribly special about laundry detergent. 

Only there was. Because he’d had Phil’s arms around him while on tour, but he’d not had this, this home feeling of their bed, the particular quiet of their flat—a quiet that wasn’t quiet at all but the background noise cushioning them when they were done talking, when the cameras and televisions off, phones silenced on the bedside table. 

“Dan—” Phil started. 

“I just love you, all right?” Dan said, testy but so, so true. 

“Okay,” Phil said. He kissed the back of Dan’s neck and relaxed against him. He didn’t say it back, and Dan was grateful. He felt it enough in Phil’s touch and was much too raw to hear it too. He knew it, and that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/617284438743793664)! 
> 
> Again, thanks to each person who has encouraged me along the way. Special thanks to Puddle for being the deciding vote on the title for this chapter. 
> 
> Title from "To Build a Home" by Cinematic Orchestra


	8. 2016 || there's a place where we don't have to feel unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navigating space and togetherness during the American portion of the tour. Reflections post-tour on how meeting their fans changed them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking and endless encyclopedic knowledge, including regarding the details of Phil's travel sickness :D
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

**Rating: M but barely**

**tw: discussions of coming out/closetedness, mentions of bullying, internalized homophobia, mentions of travel sickness**

**June**

“You ready?” Dan asked. They were the last two left in the green room, moments from the stage, moments from the last show they’d do for this leg of their tour. Phil shook out his hands, shoulders twitching upward. He was a little pale, which could be nerves or exhaustion. Both. 

“Yep,” Phil said. He smiled and let Dan take his hands and squeeze them without even rolling his eyes. “Are you?” 

Dan closed his eyes and paused, taking stock of his own feelings. They were messy and loud and jittering with pre-show nerves. When this had all started, his body had thrummed with fear every time. At least, it had until Dan began to trust that the show would take over, adrenaline erasing those nerves. Tonight was a little different; there was an anxiety blooming beside burgeoning excitement. It was almost over. They were so close to going home, to coming to a stop, to real, honest rest. He was hungry for it even when he was scared. 

Because what came next? Their 2014 New Year’s plans had ranged from specific dreams—even if they were unattainable—to long term goals and a few “maybe one day” sorts of wishes. 

Dan wasn’t sure he was ready for some of those. 

“Dan,” Phil said, squeezing his hands and pulling him close. Dan checked the door over his shoulder. It was an instinct; they’d learned a new language of care and discretion over the recent months. They knew who to trust and otherwise learned to hide in new ways. But the door was closed, and they had a few minutes. “Dan, look at me.” 

Dan fixed his eyes on Phil’s. He didn’t blink because Phil didn’t. He took a breath when Phil did and let himself grip Phil’s fingers as tight as he needed. 

“Be here with me now,” Phil said quietly. “It’s just now. Just this moment, alright?” 

Dan nodded, and made himself smile. This was something he’d learned in therapy; how a smile could start off false but in the right circumstances, become real. How it could help redirect his mood or thoughts when they began to spiral. 

“I’m here,” he said. Phil gave his fingers a final squeeze. He was really so beautiful and Dan so lucky. They both were because _this_ , the Dolby theater and the screaming fans and a camera crew were beyond anything he ever could have imagined for himself. Phil alone had been a singular dream once, but what they’d built together? 

It was pretty fucking crazy.

* * *

Backstage was chaos. It always was, but with the camera crew and the impending post-adrenaline crash Phil knew was going to hit him hard, it seemed a particularly chaotic night. Phil’s body both ached and buzzed when he saw Dan, dripping with sweat, bright and ebullient, the energy from the show rolling still through him. Dan always stayed on that performance high much longer than Phil. Inexplicably buzzed, Dan was always way too much after a show, moving and dancing and talking non-stop when Phil really wanted to sleep. 

Despite his exhaustion and the discomfort of sweat that he never noticed much on stage but always felt after, underneath the sheer relief— _it was over!_ —was a feeling he hadn’t a name for, a _Dan_ feeling, a would-be-forever Dan memory. 

“I think we did it,” Dan said when he saw Phil, laughing. 

“I think we did,” Phil replied. The cameraman following him smiled, as did Ed. Because that was his Dan: when he smiled, it shone so bright others had to smile too. It was a response not meant for anyone but Dan. There were too many people rushing around them for his words to go unnoticed, but he could tell from Dan’s eyes and the way his smile moved that the intensity, how deeply moved Phil was, was plain as day. Even in the loudest rooms, they always also existed inside the invisible bubble they’d made and kept all these years. 

Backstage post-show chaos crested then and they were hustled back toward their dressing room. Phil let himself get carried along the wave, barely registering words or directions. He could sleep for years now. Although he knew a hotel bed awaited him, knowing that soon he’d have _his_ bed, in _his_ home, where he could be and do whatever he wanted, sounded so good he could have cried from homesickness. 

These last few months had been a trial. Perhaps he was simply overwhelmingly emotional over the knowledge that their show was almost over, over the bittersweet countdown to what was going to be a spectacular end. He knew that it wasn’t necessarily even the show, though. It was something more intangible, the magnitude of the sheer idea. A theater of thousands. A film crew, movie to come, the culmination of a project they’d dreamed up and that had not quite seemed real until moments before they took the stage for their first show. _They’d done it._

Phil remembered nerves so intense he almost sicked up backstage in Scotland. He remembered how Dan had poked his side and stuck his tongue out at him with crossed eyes and Phil had to cover his mouth to muffle a laugh. The first weeks of their tour, he remembered Dan’s warm hand on Phil’s neck when he felt the sickest in their car rides. When Phil needed it, silence and space when he was really sure he’d throw up. Dan’s patience when Phil didn’t know what he needed until he absolutely did and lost his patience, snapping at Dan to leave him _be_ already. They’d eventually learned a dance, choreographed through sharp words and soft apologies. They’d reworked that dance for the American portion of the tour, the different ways Phil’s motion sickness struck him on the bus. 

Getting tired of each other like they did on tour was new too. They’d wondered if that might happen, as they were planning, though real arguments seemed an impossibility. After all, they’d lived together for years. They worked together. Every part of their lives was enmeshed. 

Phil had soon realized that living together in a flat with separate rooms where he could subtly get away from Dan’s tapping and humming and nervous, bustling energy was not the same as sitting on a different sofa on a bus, or even going to the tiny, rocking “bedroom”. Here, when they were snappish and grating on each other, it was _obvious_ when they were actively trying to get space from each other. It bothered Phil, but not like it did Dan, whose old insecurities flared up whenever this happened.

Dan had taken the time to speak to his therapist once or twice a week by phone when he could throughout the tour. It helped, some. 

“It’s not really the same,” Dan had told Phil one night. They’d been at a hotel stop in the middle of America somewhere. Phil was facedown, starfished on the bed, listening to Dan prattle on and on and _on_ , until Phil had to actively turn his voice into white noise. He was just so _exhausted_. He’d realized quickly enough how the constant noise of tour, meetings and meet and greets and rehearsal and the thrumming and grumbling of the bus, grated his senses. On top of that, it felt like Dan never left room for true silence. 

A hotel bed, pristine sheets and the potential for silence—Phil had flopped onto the bed and thought he might cry over the possibility. Until Dan started talking again. Phil buried his face in the sheets to hide the grimace of annoyance. After all, Dan had been talking about _them_ , trying to rationalize and apologize for losing his cool when Phil had abruptly left Dan mid-conversation on the bus, slamming the door behind himself in the bedroom. 

The bed dipped under Dan’s weight and Phil realized with a start that he had no idea when Dan had stopped talking. 

“Phil?” 

Phil had squeezed his already shut eyes harder, because Dan sounded so small and insecure. And Phil knew Dan enough to know he’d want to put a hand on Phil’s arm, or have Phil take his hand and pull him close. That Dan would need some kind of touch to communicate that everything was okay.

He’d rolled onto his back, making room for Dan, who had hesitated before climbing up next to him. Dan didn’t touch him and didn’t move closer. Phil stayed flat on his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he’d said automatically, a reflex. Dan frowned. 

“For what?” 

“I...I must have dozed off. Or something. What were you saying?” 

Dan’s smile had been soft, but sad. Phil hated to be the one to put that look on his face, but he had nothing left in him to try to fix it. 

“I said, what do you need?” 

“What?” 

“This is hard. It’s hard for both of us and I made it all about me today. I need you to tell me what _you_ need. Not just now, although that would be helpful. But in general. When you get like…” 

“Like?” Phil couldn’t keep the edge from his tone if he’d tried. 

“You tell me,” Dan said, still quiet. “Because you don’t tell me and so I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or how to fix it. Or if I even can because, you know, I’m...me. I know I’m a lot.” 

“No,” Phil had said, rolling onto his side so they could look at each other’s faces. “I love you. I _like_ you.” Phil knew that distinction was really important, sometimes, with Dan. “I don’t know, I just…” 

Dan started to speak but then bit his lip with a sharp inhale. A very long, expectant silence filled the room. Long enough that its weight became too much, long enough for Phil to know that Dan wouldn’t speak until Phil did. 

“I don’t know. There’s just always noise. And movement. People.” 

“And am I people?” Dan’s voice had been so careful, his face open. Phil knew this man so well, well enough to know how hard Dan was working to keep his own insecurities at bay. How hard he was working to listen—to _hear_. 

“I’m sorry Dan,” Phil had said. “You aren’t and you are. It’s not about _you_ specifically.” 

“Okay.” 

“I just...there’s never peace. There’s nowhere to go when it all starts to build up. And...yeah it feels shitty, but it feels even worse when I can’t handle it, and when it spills over.” 

“Phil, I’m a big boy. Even if my feelings get hurt, if you’re out of line, I can tell you.” Dan had pointed out. 

“But you _don’t_ always. I don’t want you internalizing things,” Phil’s eyes widened as he said it. He hadn’t meant to, but it was there, and he started to understand why his irritation and anger seemed too complicated, too weighty for him. 

“Phil, I’m in charge of my feelings. If you’re worried, you can talk to me, but you can’t take them on.” 

Sometimes Therapy Dan was a bit much for Phil, but Phil had been rather appreciative of him that night. “But what if you’re not—what if what I do is compounding something else and you don’t know how—” 

“Phil,” Dan had interrupted. “I’m going to be blunt now and probably piss you off.” 

Phil huffed a laugh and shifted. “Okay?”

“Mate, you need to worry about handling your own feelings. If we’re gonna talk about internalizing things, well, you need to figure out what to do with them rather than bottling them up, because then they just come out sideways. You took Martyn’s head off yesterday over nothing. I’ve never seen you do that.” 

“He was being an arse—” 

“That’s a matter of opinion, and not really the point. You literally just said that you hate when it spills over.” Dan’s face was devoid of any humor: still and serious and intent. 

“But that was Mar, not you.” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“I—” Phil had started but then snapped his mouth shut. _I’m scared you can’t take it_ ; he couldn’t say that. Because it wasn’t really true. Or was it? How long had he been holding on to that fear? Dan had done nothing to indicate that he couldn’t take Phil being mad at him, or snapping at him, or slamming doors—after all he was the one initiating a conversation, navigating it much better than Phil. 

“There’s something about doing this that strips away a lot of the noise, isn’t there?” Dan had asked. 

“I don’t know,” Phil said. “It feels like this tour is nothing but noise and it’s rubbing me absolutely raw.” 

“No I mean, our lives. All of the usual stuff. The routine and the nonstop work, especially this last year. This is nonstop, yeah, and hard work and I’m so tired I could cry, really, Phil. But…” Dan had stopped, gathering the right words maybe, or just taking a breath. “I’m seeing some things about me, and about us, in a different way. Because we’re in a different place and with different people.” 

“Are you seeing bad things?” Phil had asked. 

“Nothing is bad with you Phil.” Dan touched the back of Phil’s hand lightly and even though all Phil had wanted when they’d gotten to the hotel room was space, he flipped his hand over to slot their fingers together. _This_ , talking this through, felt infinitely better than grinding his teeth and aching for solitude. Dan had a point about Phil holding it in. Because had he been left alone in the silence, all Phil would have done was stew. It’s all he’d been doing for days. 

“You were worried about me, really worried, for a long time, weren’t you?” Dan had said, sweet and soft. His eyes were sad, then. Too sad. Phil traced Dan’s eyebrows with the tip of a finger. 

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“I think maybe you’ve not let yourself feel it. Ever. And I don’t think you’re letting yourself feel it now, either. But I think that it’s _still_ in there, and it affects you. It affects us.” 

Phil had hummed. Dan had a point. But he didn’t think that everything he was feeling, how wearing the tour was becoming, was all about them. 

“I don’t mean that this is all about us,” Dan had said and Phil had laughed, loudly then, startling them both. “What?” 

“D’you ever wonder how it is that our brains can be so in sync even when they aren’t?” 

Dan smiled. “You were just thinking it’s not all about us, weren’t you?” 

Phil had nodded. 

“Well, I can’t fix everything.” Dan’s smile was cheeky. “But I can ask you what _you_ need. What I can help you with. And I can ask you to please, _please_ , trust me to be an adult man capable of handling his own feelings. And to remember that if I can’t, I have a support system set up for that. I’ve had one.” 

“Does it make you feel shitty, then?” Phil had asked. It had never occurred to him, that Phil being careful with Dan might make him feel worse, not better. Not cared for. 

“Sometimes.” Dan shrugged. “You are a part of my support system. And it’s not like I’m perfect at knowing what I need or what to do. But that’s not really the point here. You can’t take _on_ my feelings Phil. You can’t stifle yours because you’re anticipating mine. That’s just not healthy.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that when you’re irritating me, I should just tell you, and you’ll take it just fine?” Phil had frowned because that sounded not only backward but implausible. 

“Well I can’t promise I won’t get pissed or hurt, but that’s for me to work out and I’ll always get over it anyway. Because it’s _you_ , you know? 

Phil had thought about that for long minutes. The quiet of the room was magnified by the whirring of the air con and Dan’s steady breathing. “I thought all I wanted was quiet and peace tonight.” 

“We can make that happen,” Dan said. “I can use the other room.” 

“I don’t want that any more.” Phil tightened his fingers around Dan’s. “Don’t leave. Unless you want to.”

“I don’t want to.” Dan had scooted closer with a smile that lit his eyes just how Phil loved. 

“Maybe...maybe some days I will need it. Space.” Phil worried at his lip until Dan gently stopped him with a fingertip. That was usually Phil’s move. 

“And maybe some days I will. We’ll see.” Dan’s finger was still on his chin. “Phil, as long as you tell me what you need, I’ll try to give it to you.” 

Phil couldn’t stop himself from kissing Dan then. “Same,” he’d said, barely catching the edge of Dan’s smile as it began to form, cutting it off with his own lips, with a kiss much more desperate than he’d anticipated. Dan rolled onto his back easily when Phil pushed into him. That night, as he so often did, he acquiesced to Phil’s lips and hands easily. He had made himself pliant, given Phil everything he asked for that night. He hadn’t demanded a single thing but Phil’s honesty. The space he made for Phil was its own sweet demand, or maybe an exhortation. Dan hadn’t said a word, not until right before the end, when Phil’s hands were tight on Dan’s, curled on the bed next to Dan’s head. Not until they were both sweating and Dan was whimpering and trying so hard to hold on, to wait for Phil. Phil could sense it, knew the way Dan’s body moved right before orgasm. Knew how Dan’s face looked when he was holding back. There was no space between their bodies but for their lips. 

“Dan,” he’d said. He didn't know what he wanted, what the rest of that sentence might be. Phil closed his eyes and felt his body slide against Dan’t, felt his own orgasm curling in his pelvis. 

“Phil,” Dan finally spoke. He had wrapped his legs around Phil’s hips. “Look at me.” 

Phil did. With the hush of night all around them, Dan’s eyes were dark, lit only by a single lamp lit. 

“With me, okay?” Dan had said, and Phil had barely begun to nod before Dan bowed up, pleasure and trust in the movement, in the letting go. Phil came then, sooner than he thought he would, sudden and drawn from him by Dan’s gasp and cry. He’d whimpered against Dan’s mouth and breathed him in. 

They’d showered in silence, quickly, exhausted beyond speech. Phil curled around Dan, grateful for the space to stretch out, for the stillness of a bed that wasn’t swaying with the movement of wheels. 

And the next time they’d had a hotel stop, he’d gathered his courage and asked for space. And even though he could see Dan’s hurt feelings behind the smile everyone else would see as easy, he didn’t apologize for it. In bed, alone that night, he’d texted Dan an apology, and asked if he was okay. 

_Thx 4 asking._

_I’m fine_

Phil had smiled, snuggled further under the covers, watching _The Walking Dead_ halfheartedly, dozing in and out. 

_OMG, are you at _the sceene_ yet???_ he texted Dan about an hour later. He wasn’t sure which episode Dan was on and would never risk the wrath of Dan being spoiled. Dan didn’t respond for ages, long enough that Phil was tempted to go knock on Dan’s door. 

_We need to do this separate room thing more often_ Dan had finally texted back. 

_bc of the walking dead?_ Phil had asked. 

_bc I just had the best wank ever_

Phil had dropped his phone, doubled over with laughter and knew, really knew, that it would all be okay. 

And tonight, in the green room the final night of their American tour, so tired he could have slept curled on the floor—honestly he could—Phil knew that everything _would_ be okay, but in a much deeper, visceral way. He and Dan had big dreams, and they knew that not every door would be open to them—hell, they hadn’t been—but now, despite the noise of the crew and family and the bustle of a champagne bottle being put into his hands and cups passed around, Dan was always in his periphery, just as he’d been since he’d been text and a picture on a screen. 

Tonight they’d celebrate and then soon, soon, be home. And Phil couldn’t wait. He couldn't wait to lament his dead plants and snuggle into his own sheets and get lost in editing a video on his own computer, to film in the gaming room, and just to _be_.

But more, Phil couldn’t wait to be at home with Dan. Just to be with the version of Dan he knew in their home. How he looked when still on the couch or asleep in their bed or concentrating on cooking. When he was curled in a blanket browsing the internet, deep in the sofa crease, sending Phil a sleepy, affectionate smile he knew meant they’d be going to bed together soon enough. 

“Phil,” Dan said, startling Phil back into the moment. Dan’s hand was outstretched. “Want me to do the champagne?” His smile was unguarded and somehow unabashedly intimate, despite the crowded room and the cameras. When Dan smiled like that, Phil’s insides went hot and tight with emotion. Because this soft, open Dan still felt a little new. 

There were times, after Dan started therapy and medication, that Phil had been really scared. He’d never told Dan; it had taken him months to confide to his mother. He wanted Dan happy and well, but couldn’t ignore a small voice, an insistent one, that said once Dan was doing better, was feeling more level and in control of his life, he might not need Phil anymore. 

Phil wanted Dan’s happiness so much that he’d never wish things were different, even if that was a choice. 

Phil didn’t want to be the thing holding Dan together. Logically, he knew that while he helped Dan, Dan was the one who’d held himself together all those years. 

Still, it was something lovely, something surprising, to find Dan always moving toward Phil even as he worked on his own wellness. To find themselves closer and closer, as if the ground around Dan before had been cluttered, as if they’d both been tripping over boxes and boxes of Dan’s emotional stuff. Not that everything was unpacked—and Jesus he’d thought himself right into that cliché metaphor hadn’t he?—but the path was a little easier. 

“No,” Phil said, and let himself smile back. “I’ve got it.”

* * *

Dan didn’t always miss home when they were on the road. Or, rather, he missed small things. The precise give of their bed, the smell of their detergent. The ambient light through the window that couldn’t be matched anywhere in the world. Phil, facing him, half asleep and beautiful. They’d gotten on such a strict schedule on tour that being in bed at midnight seemed extravagant. They were only home for a small stretch before Australia; the structure and responsibility of the tour was still out there, waiting for him to slip back into it. 

Being home and in bed with Phil was lovely, and frightening, because while so much had felt changed when they were on tour, nothing felt changed at home. The world had simply carried on while they were gone and all of the huge, life changing moments they’d shared were just that. Private moments the world at large would never notice. 

The thought was terrifying, but also wonderful. 

“Do you remember the girl at the Glasgow show,” he asked Phil, “with the undercut and rainbow hair?” 

“Hm.” Phil closed his eyes. “Remind me?”

“She was the first one to give us a pride flag to sign,” Dan prompted. 

“Yes!” Phil smiled and opened his eyes. She’d thanked them for making her brave enough to come out to her parents and friends. Phil’s face had gone still in the way it did when he was so moved he wasn’t sure what to do and Dan had put his biggest smile on and praised her, making sure to emphasize how amazing that was. 

“She said we made her brave. And there was a long queue and I wanted to tell her we didn’t make her brave, that she was brave on her own, but there wasn’t enough time.” 

Phil hummed again. 

“I just...I can’t believe I wasn’t expecting that kind of thing. Or...I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize there’d be so many fans I would want to talk to so much more.”

Dan smiled and took Phil’s hand. 

“Yeah, neither did I,” Phil said. This wasn’t a new conversation. They’d been circling this for months, wrapping their heads around their own perceptions of their fans and the people they had met, the cognitive dissonance still required to merge the two. Regardless, they were always grateful for their fans. But for Dan, meeting them had helped settle something. Some old resentments, tension he felt weighing on him quite often in previous years. 

“Have you thought any more about…” Phil began, but looked away before burying his face in his pillow. 

“About?” Dan brushed Phil’s hair up and off his forehead. 

“I don’t….there’s things we talked about. A while ago. And I don’t want to pressure you, at all—”

“About coming out?” Dan interrupted. He kept his voice quiet, and kind, because this was a hard conversation—both to have and to avoid, something they’d done in turns for years. 

“I just…” Phil closed his eyes and nudged his head up into Dan’s fingers. Dan ran his fingers through Phil’s hair softly. “I don’t want the world to know everything. Or most things. But then with some fans it’s like…”

“Like we could really help?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dan closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. Tried to imagine being out, what that might mean. He knew, viscerally, how much being out would help so many of their fans. How important representation was. 

But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine a life outside of the box he and Phil had built around their relationship. Couldn’t imagine putting the most vulnerable parts of himself on display. Coming out to his family. 

What would he even say? For years Dan had avoided thinking about his sexuality—at least in terms of specific labels or language. He knew now, after talking about it in therapy, how much of this was due to being outed years ago. How much of it had to do with the relentless bullying growing up, about how much hatred and pain people had managed to pack into one specific word. There were days Dan couldn’t fathom the weight the word _gay_ carried in his mind. To this day he avoided using it even in context of thinking about himself. Queer? Yes. That was a word he felt safer with. Gay? How could he even begin to think about coming out when he could hardly wrap his mind around how he thought of himself, much less navigate himself as a public figure? When a single word, true as it may be, had so much power over him even speaking of it with Phil could send him into a panic attack

“I’m sorry Phil,” Dan said on a breath, chest tight, eyes stinging and hot. “I know I should be able to—”

“No, Dan,” Phil said, shushing him with a little kiss. “It’s okay. I don’t know that _I_ even want to. I don’t...I don’t know anything. But I would rather not know anything with you than not. I figured...we could check in, is all.” 

Dan blinked moisture from his lashes. “Checking in I can do.” 

“It’s been a minute,” Phil said dryly. Dan snorted a laugh. It had been two years since they’d first talked about wanting to come out, eventually. Two years was a lifetime and a moment. Two years crammed with so many things, with a whirlwind on top of a whirlwind, but under it all, just a shared life with someone he loved. 

“Promise me, though, that if you ever really want to come out publicly, you’ll tell me?” Dan asked. “I can’t be the thing holding you back.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, “you could never. I’m out to the people it’s most important to. It would be great, I guess, for us to be role models, just someone a kid growing up could look to. But it’s not worth it if the cost is your well-being.” 

“I just don’t want everything to always hinge on me being too weak because I’m not ready.” 

“Not weak, Dan.” Phil took Dan’s chin in his hands. “Never weak. This is _your_ life. It doesn’t belong to anyone else, not even me. I would never want you to do something at that kind of cost.” 

Dan took Phil in, the exhaustion bruising below his lovely blue eyes, his messy bedhead made even worse by Dan’s fingers. His pale skin, so translucent that Dan could trace the paths of his veins. “Promise me,” he said again, sure suddenly that he _needed_ to know, needed assurance. 

“Dan, I promise you’re not holding me back,” Phil said, threading their fingers together and squeezing his hand. 

“No,” Dan said, blinking rapidly, eyes burning again. “Promise you won’t _let_ me hold you back.” 

“Dan.” Phil scooted closer, so close Dan could feel the heat of his body. “I promise. You never have and you never will. You wouldn’t let it happen, and I wouldn’t. Okay?” 

Dan took a long, shuddering breath. “Yeah.” 

“Do you promise too? Will you?” 

“Of course,” Dan said, bewildered by the mere thought that Phil could do anything but make his life better. 

“And maybe promise one more thing?” Phil said, low and soft. 

“What?” 

“To try to remember that you make my life just as good as I make yours. Because I know you. Right now your brain is doing that thing where you think things are unbalanced or that like, you’re a burden and I’m amazing—”

“It’s in the branding, buffoon,” Dan said around a wet laugh. 

“Shut up,” Phil said, bonking the back of his hand off of Dan’s nose. “And don’t try to distract me. Please, promise.” 

Dan nibbled at his already dry lips until Phil gently stopped him. He thought of Phil, on the floor of their flat, years ago, telling Dan all the ways in which Dan made Phil’s life better. About the things Dan brought to their life together. It was hard, really hard, to think of that night. Not to get overwhelmed by the memory of how crushing his depression had become, how difficult that year was. Even remembering Phil on the floor with him, and Phil’s words that night, was hard. 

But Phil didn’t lie. Phil wouldn’t lie to him. Maybe his therapist was right, and he and Phil were a little codependent. But Dan wasn’t sure he’d want to live in a world where he didn’t have Phil to rely on, even when it came to himself. He wasn’t ready for that just yet. 

“All right,” he whispered. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again, thanks to each person who has encouraged me along the way. 
> 
> Title from You Will Be Found, from Dear Even Hansen


	9. 2017 || love will not break your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They’d been smarter this time, before this next tour. Planned to build in small moments, pauses in which to catch their breath, before bigger, scarier, busier things to come. The year hadn’t gone quite how they wanted, which only served to make Dan more grateful that they’d deliberately chosen to plan non-work related vacations this year_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking brilliance.
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

** Tw: mentions of grief, discussion of depression, brief reference to body image issues, illness due to medication withdrawal **

**Rating: T**

**March**

“Never again,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s chest. 

“C’mon,” Phil said, grunting as he tried to take Dan’s weight and his shoes off. “You have to help me out here Dan.”

“Phil, I’m gonna be sick,” Dan said, sudden and desperate. He sprinted up the stairs, still half in a shoe, tripping his way into the bathroom. Phil followed quickly, but not in time. 

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ ” He could hear Dan whispering. “Phil could you get me some rags?” 

“Dan, I’ll ta—” 

“Phil,” Dan said, a little choked and a lot exhausted. “No. Get me some rags.” 

Phil picked up Dan’s shoe and tossed it down the stairs. He hoped he remembered it when they left next or else _he’d_ be the one tripping. They were meant to go look at apartments later and he had no idea how on earth Dan would be able to go. Watching Dan pale slowly over the course of the meeting they’d just left, how sweat had gathered at his hairline while he held onto his composure through sheer stubborn will, had been agonizing for Phil. He was practiced at putting on a composed face, so he’d done so, but inside he’d wanted nothing more than to take Dan home, than to cancel all the meetings they had set up until Dan could finally get back on his medication. 

Which they didn’t have the luxury to do. 

Dan refused to let Phil clean the mess he’d made in the bathroom, nor to accompany him to the bedroom to get changed. Unsure what he was supposed to do when there was nothing _to_ do, Phil settled for making peppermint tea and creeping quietly into their room in case Dan was sleeping. He wasn’t—rather he was curled around a pillow on the bed, clutching it tightly and breathing long and slow. 

“I don’t—I brought you some tea?” Phil whispered. Dan nodded into his pillow. “D’you want me to leave it or take it?”

“Leave it,” Dan said. “I’ll try in a few minutes.” 

Phil set it down on Dan’s side of the bed. “I can call the estate agent, reschedule?”

“No. There’s no time; you know there’s no time.” Dan’s face was pale and sheened with sweat. Still, he had up the hood of a sweatshirt he’d grabbed off the floor and was shaking. Phil touched the back of his hand gently. It was cold to the touch. 

“I’ll go without you if you want.” Dan didn’t take his hand and Phil didn’t press. He sat carefully, not wanting to jostle him. 

“Please, _as if_ ,” Dan said, and Phil smiled at the trace of familiar sarcasm. “I can’t trust you with your outfits half the time—”

“Ow,” Phil said through a laugh. A ghost of a smile touched Dan’s face. 

“You looked nice today,” Dan said, by way of an apology Phil didn’t need. Sometimes Dan worried, when he wasn’t feeling well, that his jokes weren’t transparent. Phil could never really tell why; he always knew the difference between Dan being sharp and Dan being...well, Dan. 

“Thank you,” he said softly instead of any of the other soothing words crowding in his mind and behind his lips. “Dan, you really don’t have to go. I could facetime you.” 

“Phil,” Dan said, finally looking up at him to meet his eyes. “I want to. I know this apartment will be temporary, or like, that we hope it’ll be temporary. But I’ve been looking forward to being able to pick an apartment with you without ridiculous pressure and no money. It feels...grown up.” 

“You are a grown up, you dingdong,” Phil said. Dan laughed softly with him, a tiny victory Phil savored. 

“Well, I want to enjoy it. And...well, okay I’m not going to because you know, I’m a dumbass _not_ grownup who forgets their own medication—”

“—Dan, that could happen to anyone.” 

“Ugh, Phil, I love you but could you not?” 

Phil bit back a testy retort and resisted the urge to leave the room. It wouldn’t help anyone and besides, Dan was the one suffering. They could work on Dan not needing to beat himself up for mistakes another day. 

Dan huffed. “I want to go. I’ll like, give you a secret signal if things are going too far south. It’s only a few tonight right?” 

“Yeah. What’s south though?” 

“Your mum,” Dan said, and wheezed with laughter. 

“Shut up,” Phil said, and rubbed his shoulder. Gently.

* * *

Ultimately, it could have been worse, but it could have been better. Dan told him over and over that that was a ridiculously useless sentiment but truly, Phil had no idea how to classify how he felt about the last couple of weeks they’d been through. 

They’d chosen a flat. It was imperfect but liveable and it didn’t have to be permanent. Dan had finally, _finally_ gotten back on track with his meds. Somehow, he didn’t seem haunted by the experience, so much as stubbornly determined not to ever go through that again. Which, preferably, sure. Only Dan’s determination took the form of a future goal to eventually work his way off of them. 

Phil had very few words to say about that, because it was Dan’s life and Dan’s wellness and he really, really wanted to support what Dan thought was best for himself. He knew, logically, that his own anxieties were coloring his reactions to just about everything. But it seemed everything was changing, all at once, and Phil was not prepared for so much. Especially changes he hadn’t seen coming. Just the thought of Dan going off his meds made Phil’s belly tighten.

Sometimes, like tonight, it was all Phil could think about. Change. Not just the many changes in their lives, now and coming in the future. But his relationship with it, how big and crushing his fear of change could be.

“Look, I’ll even start packing now,” Dan was saying. He’d been pacing through the room, talking a mile a minute for a good ten minutes before he’d even registered Phil’s silence. He was crouched in front of Phil now, big hands cupping Phil’s knees. It was late, much too late for the kind of spirited and useless conversation Dan was trying to have with Phil about Kanye, _again_ , and Phil just wanted his brain to stop careening like an out of control train long enough to get to sleep. Dan must have been trying to get his attention for a couple of minutes. Everything was oddly foggy, Phil’s heart pounding madly in his chest. 

Why were they even _still_ awake? Why did the emails and phone calls and non-stop gaming sessions meant to stockpile videos never end? 

“It’s past midnight Dan, what’s that gonna do?” Phil croaked through a much too tight throat. 

“Remove one grain of sand from this mountain of stress?” Dan said lightly. Phil blinked. “I know it’s a lot, and I know change is hard. But we’re going to go and enjoy our holiday now. Then we’re gonna do Australia and be tired as fuck but it’ll be fun. We’re going to take some time just for us, right? We just have to get through this last little push and then we can pack it away for a little while.” 

Something warm and excited began to grow in Phil’s belly. Their trip to Singapore was time for just them. A mini-break on the way to _Cool for the Summer_. A beautiful hotel room and an itinerary of places they’d picked out to go explore on their way there and back. They’d be wrecked with exhaustion when they got home, and there was so much planning to do ahead of them, but Dan was right. Phil needed to breathe. He needed to stop catastrophizing and projecting. He needed to be present, especially with Dan. They’d structured their year like this deliberately, building in small breaks to focus on their relationship. The last thing Phil wanted was to carry all of these worries into cordoned off, protected spaces. 

Dan packing ahead of time wouldn’t help with all of the Too Much stuff plaguing Phil, but he was not about looking gift horses in the mouth. He wasn’t about looking at horses at all if he could help it.

“That would be nice,” was all he said, letting that little spark of excitement burn with some small satisfaction. Nefarious means of getting his way weren’t necessarily his style, but it wasn’t nefarious when suggested by someone else, was it now? “But only if you promise not to be cross in the morning.” 

“It’s not even that late. It won’t take long,” Dan said. Phil scoffed. “Besides when am I ever cross in the morning?” He winked, which Phil had to outright laugh at.

“When aren’t you? Especially when I’ve kept you up.” 

“Phil,” Dan got back to his knees in front of him. “Keep me up the right way and I’m always pleasant in the morning.” 

“Again, bollocks. Also, bub, I don’t think anyone in here is up for anything fancy tonight.” 

“Give us a kiss then,” Dan challenged, “and we’ll see.” 

Phil rolled his eyes and pecked Dan on the lips. 

“Yep,” Dan said, eyes bright with a shit-eating grin. “Preemptively all better.” 

“Shut up, wanker.” Phil pushed Dan’s shoulder, then caught him when Dan actually started to tumble over. 

“You utter _arse_ , ow!” Dan rubbed his shoulder, rather over-dramatically, pouting until Phil dropped a kiss there too. 

“I am sorry, you know,” Phil said, meaning about a lot more than the shoulder. 

“Phil, really. You know this. Even if I’m grumpy the next day, I’d be grumpier if you went to bed anxious when I could have helped.”

“All right then that’s settled,” Phil said, standing and nudging Dan with his toes. “I’ll be scheduling an anxiety attack three days prior to every trip at about 11:59. Suit you?” 

Dan just swatted Phil’s calf and rolled his eyes. “Arsehole.” 

**September**

Dan woke in an unfamiliar bed for an unknown reason. He had no idea what time it was; he knew only that he was warm and every part of his body was relaxed and rested and wrapped in deliciously high thread count sheets. Sunlight streamed in through the single window they’d forgotten to pull the drapes on, lighting the small corner where a round end table sat by a wingback chair. Phil’s trousers and shirt were draped over the side, their phones plugged in next to a delicate lamp. 

They’d decided the night before to put their phones far from the bed. To spend their first full day in Greece unplugged. To stay unplugged as long as they could, at least in these moments. Realistically, it wouldn’t be long. Dan guessed that by their third night one of them would accidentally find himself scrolling mindlessly through some social media app or another, propped against the bed, skin sun-warmed and hair wet. 

Dan didn’t mind that picture so much. This was nicer though. He turned his head; Phil was fast asleep, curled away from him, sheets slipping low down his waist. Dan watched the shifting of his ribs with each deep breath, the way the shaved hairs on his neck were growing out. They needed haircuts. Dan didn’t mind though. More hair for him to run his fingers through. 

The thought made him grin. If he wanted he could wake Phil with kisses. Could pull him slow and sweet into an early morning fuck, the sort they’d been too busy and exhausted to indulge in for weeks now. 

Phil needed sleep though. Phil needed deep sleep, deep care. He needed a space to let go. They were so tired, planning another tour, doing conventions, dealing with the increased workload required from the gaming channel, from IRL. 

But more, Phil needed a space to decompress. To let himself feel, and if he was ready, to grieve. 

Phil’s skin was a luminous white, nearly pearlescent against the dark sheets. Dan could have traced constellations from the freckles on his back and shoulders. Instead, he shifted until he could feel the warmth from Phil’s body and breathed slow and deep, trying to catch hold of Phil’s rhythm. He wouldn’t sleep more—his mind was bright awake and ready to move—but he didn’t want Phil to wake alone. 

A clatter echoed from inside the flat they were renting, something hitting the hard tiled floors of the kitchen he supposed. The sound of Bryony’s laughter, loud and then muffled, carried into their room. Phil inhaled sharply, just how he always did when waking with a start, and then groaned. Dan kissed his shoulder blade, feeling the bone and muscle move as Phil stretched. 

“Time izt?” Phil said, then cleared morning roughness from his throat. 

“No idea,” Dan said. He wrapped a hand around Phil’s hip. Not an invitation, not really. He just wanted to feel Phil, the solid truth of his bones, his lovely body. They’d been smarter this time, before this next tour. Planned to build in small moments, pauses in which to catch their breath, before bigger, scarier, busier things to come. The year hadn’t gone quite how they wanted, which only served to make Dan more grateful that they’d deliberately chosen to plan non-work related vacations this year. 

Phil rolled over, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had deep pillow creases, which meant he’d slept hard and without moving too much. Dan thumbed one softly. 

“Dreams?” he asked quietly. A frown flickered across Phil’s face, replaced quickly by a smile. 

“None.” Phil leaned in and kissed Dan’s chest before pushing him onto his back, tucking his face into Dan’s neck. It was warm, almost too warm in their room, and Dan felt sure that they’d be sticky with sweat soon enough. They had aircon in their new apartment, but that was a novelty still, nothing like the portable one Phil had bought ages ago in their old place. They’d lived together, slept together, in beds a little too small, in rooms much too hot during heat waves, for years. 

Their new place was blessed with aircon, but also, a larger bed. 

For the life of him, Dan wouldn’t admit that sometimes he missed their older, smaller bed. Missed the comfort of their old flat. Especially on nights when he woke alone, padding through still slightly unfamiliar halls to find Phil, who was trying to forget nightmares that were becoming increasingly more routine, alone in the dark in front of the computer or television. To wash anxiety away through the flickering light and shadow of a too-familiar tv show or movie. 

“You?” Phil’s breath was damp and warm against his neck. Dan squirmed. 

“What?” 

“Dreams.” Phil pulled away so he wouldn’t be speaking into Dan’s neck, which he appreciated. His arm was slung across Dan’s belly still. Dan shrugged and ran a finger over taut skin, the line of a more defined tricep. They’d begun working with a personal trainer after the gym _incident_ because Dan adamantly refused to let Phil go back. Honestly, he’d been so incensed he’d flat-out refused Phil’s proposal that they find another gym farther away. Dan and Phil tended to have very different philosophies when it came to spending money. They rarely fought about it, but that night had ended in a row, a lot of silence, and a very, very late bedtime as they’d both refused to go to sleep while angry, but were too stubborn to want to be the one to apologize first. 

Ultimately, Dan had convinced Phil that the increased price of a personal trainer was worth it. And it was. Phil’s anxieties over exercising in a public space, over being a klutz in front of people, of not knowing what to do or how to do it, were eased tremendously once they actually started working with someone. As a result, they’d both managed to keep up with an exercise program Dan thought might even be sustainable post-tour. Of course, he’d thought that before TATINOF but, well. A boy could dream. 

“I’ll never be hench, you know that right?” Phil said with a laugh. 

“Shut up, dummy,” Dan said, and pushed him away. He rolled out of bed and rooted through his still unpacked suitcase for a pair of lounging shorts. “Don’t make me say something horrible.” 

“Like what?” Phil had his head propped on his hand. His hair was spiked on one side and half fallen on his face on the other. He still had those pillow creases and his eyes were slightly red from traveling with his contacts in and forgetting to take them out. The sunlight had a different quality to it than back home, and though it only shone through one small window, Phil was so startlingly bright, all sleepy smiles, and bed-messy hair. _You’re so fucking beautiful_. Dan bit his lip. 

“Something about only wanting long noodle boys who won’t ever have a nine-pack,” Dan said, tossing Phil his hideous emoji pjs. It was a testament to his love, really it was, that Dan participated in the continued atrocity of Phil owning, much less wearing, those pjs. Phil rolled onto his back, clutching them to his chest. For a moment, Dan wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with him again. He was travel gross and hungry though. 

“Don’t wait on me,” Phil said without looking at him. “I’m not hungry yet.” 

“You sure?” Dan frowned. 

Phil turned to him, and the smile he gave wasn’t at all forced or strained like it had been so often this year. “Mmm, yeah. Bed comfy. Still sleepy.” 

Dan leaned over, one knee on the bed, and gave Phil a loud, wet, smack of a kiss on the forehead. “All right lazy. Come down whenever you want then.”

* * *

“I cannot believe you let me sleep in the sun that long,” Dan complained. Phil smirked. He was thumbing through his camera roll while Dan lounged with his head on Phil’s lap. He played with Dan’s curls absently. They were dampening Phil’s shorts while Dan’s hair air dried. Phil would be making a right mess of Dan’s curls and he was sure to complain later that Phil had made him look like a fluffy poodle. 

Which didn’t matter at all really. Phil loved Dan’s curls, fluffed or not. He’d seen them for years, sure, but never like this, all the time, stress-free. 

Falling for Dan in little moments, over and over throughout the years, always took Phil off guard. The hot swoop of it in his belly, the warmth in the tips of his fingers. The terrible fondness in his heart that made Phil feel at once naked and safe. He’d never told Dan, thinking it was maybe a weird thing—not that Dan minded his weird. Sometimes it was nice to have little secrets though, and the fact that you could fall for your partner hundreds of times over the years was a delicious one. 

“You needed it,” Phil said. He touched the wrinkle between Dan’s eyebrows. 

“I’ll get burned if you keep that sort of thing up,” Dan grouched. He was hungry and they were all waiting on a food delivery. Bryony and Wirrow were out on the balcony with wine and some quiet conversation while Dan and Phil enjoyed the cool stretch of couch and quiet phone time. 

“I wouldn’t let you,” Phil said. Dan had already gone back to his Instagram, laughing over a video of baby pugs trying to walk, little tails wagging as they fell over themselves. Dan giggled and tilted the phone so Phil could see better. 

They watched a string of dog videos until Dan decided to research something asinine about cross breeding large and small dogs. Within half an hour he was lost in an article about shoes that French courtesans wore centuries ago. Phil went back to his camera roll and the half-dozen pictures of Dan he’d taken, curled and safe in a giant donut floaty. He chose the best—in his opinion—and sent it to Dan. It needed no filter, not in the brilliant Greek sun, with the azure water and the garish pink of the floaty. 

“You kidding me?” Dan said, craning his neck to look at Phil. Phil just smiled. 

“What? It's adorable.” 

“I look terrible. Squishy,” Dan mumbled. 

“Shut up, really?” Phil put his phone down on the armrest of the couch where it promptly slid off, landing on the tile with a sharp crack. He didn’t so much as flinch. Instead he took Dan’s phone from him, more gently, and took his chin in his hand. Dan’s eyes wouldn’t meet his, even when Phil tilted his head back. “Daniel,” Phil said softly. 

“Nevermind, can we forget I said that?” 

“No,” Phil said. Dan shifted and closed his eyes, then wiggled away. 

“I’m gonna go shower, I think,” Dan said. He picked Phil’s phone up and dropped it in Phil’s lap. 

“Dan,” Phil said, half rising. Dan put a hand on his shoulder, passing behind him on the couch. 

“Leave it Phil,” he said quietly. “It’ll pass. That was silly of me to say. I know.” 

Phil bit his lip as he turned to watch Dan leave. He didn’t point out that Dan had just showered, or follow him out of the room. Phil knew what it was to not always be able to see yourself as others see you. Years of seeing themselves on camera for so long and being exposed to comments on their looks or bodies while also dealing with their own personal insecurities all took a toll. They’d gotten better over the time about that aspect—what other people thought of them—but quieting an internal voice was a harder discipline. Phil resisted the urge to follow Dan, to press himself against his body, to meet his eyes in the mirror of the bathroom and tell Dan all the ways he was so lovely and sexy and perfect. Because he absolutely was.

Dan wouldn’t hear it until he was ready. He’d been working on this, anyway, in therapy. On figuring out how to be kinder to himself without depending on Phil to lift him up. He had a notebook of affirmations to look at if he needed. Sure, some were written by Phil, but that was okay. Dan had crossed out some of the more ridiculous ones ( _your eyebrows are pure sex_ ) but kept any he thought he might need. 

Phil waited a while, but Dan didn’t come back. Bryony entered the room, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“I sent him a picture I took,” he said. “He went back to shower, I guess.” 

“Ah,” she said. “Food’ll be here soon. Want to go get him?” 

“Yeah.” Phil stood. No one wanted an over-hungry Dan on their hands. “I’ll go get him.” 

Dan wasn’t in the shower—Phil hadn’t really expected him to be—but rather was propped up in their bed, scribbling in the journal he brought everywhere with him these days. 

“Babe?” Phil paused in the doorway. 

“Hi,” Dan said, closing the journal. His smile was easy, soft and open. He patted the bed. 

“Hi, you.” Phil tried to hop over Dan and onto it, accidentally bumping his head against Dan’s shoulder.

“ _Oh my god_ , you oaf, what are you about?!” Dan shrieked, laughing helplessly as Phil tried to right himself, rubbing his head where they’d collided. Phil settled himself down in the bed, head on Dan’s lap in a reversal of their position earlier. Dan traced the shape of his ear, and then his eyebrows, eyes on Phil’s. 

“Can I say nice things yet?” 

“No,” Dan said, the pad of his finger now on Phil’s lips. “I don’t need them anymore. It’s a cute picture.” Phil nipped at the finger and smiled at Dan’s hissed in breath. 

“Stop that, you; I’m starving. Is the food here?” 

Phil rolled onto his hands and knees so he could kiss Dan properly. “Soon.” 

“Good.” Dan turned his head so that Phil’s kiss landed on his cheek. 

“Dan,” Phil whined. “You cannot touch me like that if you aren’t going to follow through.” 

“I’ll touch you how I want,” Dan said, all mock outrage and adorable, teasing laughter. “What are you, a Victorian damsel? If I flash a little ankle will I need smelling salts next?” 

“Shut up, rat.” Phil pushed Dan’s shoulders back and climbed onto his lap. He was all elbows and knees, but this was a dance they were practiced at, so no one was injured in any vital areas. 

“Seriously, Phil,” Dan said. His hands were on Phil’s ass. “I’m going to die soon without food.” 

“But it’s not here yet, and I am,” Phil said. He knew he was whining again, just a little, but Dan was truly lovely. Now that he was looking closer, Phil noticed how the sun had pinked Dan’s cheeks. He kissed one cheekbone, and then the other, before biting down, just a little. 

“Tell me why we didn’t think to order food sooner?” Dan said, tilting his chin so Phil could kiss behind his ear. Phil inhaled sharply as Dan slipped his hands under the hem of his shorts.

“What?” Phil said, a little dazed by how suddenly his body had gone from a small, teasing need to dizzying want. 

“Boys!” Wirrow’s voice was a jolt of cold water. “Food!” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Dan said, pushing Phil off of him without ceremony. Phil flopped against the bed. “You coming mate?” 

“Obviously not.” Phil gestured at his lap. He knew he was pouting, just as he knew it was useless to try to sway Dan back onto the bed with him. Besides, he was hungry as well. “I need a minute.” 

Dan laughed, a happy, bright sound that trailed behind him even as he left the room. 

**October**

He’d filmed all of “Daniel and Depression” and was in the depths of editing—and second guessing—it before he noticed something was wrong. In his defense, Dan wasn’t just bogged down by the ever present specter of perfectionism, but by the knowledge that with this video, he’d be exposing something very, very personal to the world. He’d filmed some things that ended up being unusable because they just hit way too close to home. He’d chosen not to film some things that he wasn’t sure about, simply because he didn’t know if they’d be helpful or a hindrance, either for his own well being or for his fans. 

He spent three very late nights holed up staring at his footage, taking notes, crumpling and tossing paper on the floor, muttering to himself and barely eating, before things came to a head. 

The morning of the fourth day he rolled out of bed, body aching and eyes gritty from too little sleep. He’d crawled in at about 3am, trying not to wake Phil, and set his alarm for 7am, determined to just get it done. World National Mental Health Day was looming and Dan was _not_ about to fuck this deadline up. He’d been determined to do this one without Phil, as much as he could. Phil helped with the filming, but everything else Dan wanted to do on his own. Phil had, as always, been supportive. 

Phil was still asleep and so Dan crept quietly into the bathroom. A pang in his belly reminded him that he had no idea when Phil had gone to bed last night. Two nights ago—maybe three?—Phil had come in to check on him, asking him to come to bed soon, and Dan had snapped at him. He’d apologized the next morning, making excuses for his stress, before Phil had cut him off with a short kiss and a sleepy, only half-there smile. 

“It’s all right Dan; I know this is hard.” 

Dan had barely managed to get a hug in before Phil was wandering away, muttering something about wanting to film something of his own. 

It was so early the room was hardly lit, but it was bright enough for Dan to see how tired Phil looked, even asleep. Tired enough that his half-formed plan to bring Phil coffee in bed got tossed. Why did he look so tired though? His skin had an almost papery quality to it, and his hair was greasy and lank. 

Now he thought about it, Dan hadn’t really seen Phil yesterday. They’d texted from separate rooms, but otherwise Dan had wandered like a ghost between the kitchen, bathroom and his computer all day. They’d never seemed to be in the same place at the same time. 

The kitchen was brightening with the sunrise. It was a hazy sort of cloudy outside, streaking the sky with muted color. Dan frowned over the tea he was making; an anxious need to get back to Phil was beginning to nag at him.

What was it Phil had said to him? Dan frowned as he tried to remember that night. Phil had come up behind him, wrapping arms around his shoulders from behind, almost startling Dan into spilling his coffee. Dan had been so focused on his racing heart and the small puddle of coffee, he could hardly recall what Phil actually said. 

But now that he tried, he was pretty sure Phil had not just asked him to come to bed. “Please? I need you?” He’d said it so softly, was all. Dan hadn’t really realized the implication of the soft entreaty. It wasn’t invitation, it was need.

Dan sighed, kicking the kitchen cabinet lightly, over and over. He grabbed his laptop and earphones and snuck back into their room, propping himself up against the headboard, determined to wait for Phil to wake up. 

Coming home from Greece had been wonderful. _Greece_ had been wonderful. It was one of the first times in years that Dan could remember coming home feeling so rested, rejuvenated. The laughter and teasing and relaxation of their holiday spilled over into their still new-to-them home, lighting each corner. 

It was natural that that should wane over time as they shifted back into their real lives, into work. But now Dan was really thinking about it, and he wondered if he’d been missing something. He’d been gearing up for this video, managing details of working with Young Minds, working with his agent over opportunities this would present, trying not to worry too much over the first livestream that would come after the video. Sometimes Dan loved livestreams. Sometimes he got through them by the skin of his teeth, such an anxious mess when they were over he’d lay on the floor, sweating and coming down. 

Dan had been so caught up in all of this that everything else had faded into background noise. Phil had been quieter and quieter, Dan supposed. He’d been so caught up in himself, Phil withdrawing hadn’t registered as it should have. 

Dan closed his laptop and scooted back down. He didn’t want to wake Phil, but now that he was actually paused and mindful, he couldn’t help but curl around him, sliding one arm around Phil’s stomach. Phil shifted to accommodate him in that sleepy way he had, not ready to wake up but grateful for Dan’s closeness. Dan put his forehead against Phil’s neck and breathed slowly with him. 

Rewinding and playing back a mental reel, he could see now that something had been wrong, and that Dan had been much too selfishly in his head to see it. Dan was so much better about asking for what he needed, and there were so many therapy things Dan roped Phil into simply by virtue of practice at home, that he forgot some of the most important ones Phil struggled with.

Like asking for what he needed instead of bottling things up. Facing the things that scared and hurt him the most, rather than pushing them away with countless distractions. 

Dan lingered in a semi-doze for what felt like ages, talking himself away from self-recrimination and trying to meditate on the things he could do that would be helpful for Phil _now_ rather than making this about himself. When Phil woke, it was with a jolt and then a sigh. His body melted into Dan’s with the sort of happy wiggle-and-settle it often did. 

“Morning, you,” Dan said, breath damp against Phil’s skin. Phil twitched his shoulder away. 

“Morning,” Phil croaked. Dan propped himself up on an elbow but kept his arm around Phil. He had to shove a pillow aside to do so. It wasn’t elegant but it got the job done.

“Want some coffee, babe?” 

Phil breathed slowly for a long while, waking slow and heavy. “How long’ve you been up?” he asked. 

“No idea what time it is now,” Dan said by way of answer. 

“Stay for a bit.” Phil put a hand over Dan’s and pulled his arm tighter around him. Really tight. Dan frowned and tried to arrange his body more comfortably, eventually throwing a leg over Phil’s as well. His other arm was squashed under Phil’s head and this close, Dan could tell that it had probably been a while since Phil had washed his hair. 

“Phil,” Dan started carefully. “What’s going on?” 

“Hm?” Phil pressed his face against Dan’s arm. “Wakin’ up.” 

“No, really.” Dan tried to be gentle. “Are you okay? You’re not are you?” 

Phil was still then, so very still. A sort of stillness Dan dimly remembered from years and years ago. It was a stillness like the calm before the storm; the kind that would break with shuddering breaths and many, many tears. 

“Too early for this Dan,” Phil complained, but it was watery and tight. Phil’s whole body was tight, holding on to something so hard, willing himself not to break. 

To be honest, after the year they’d had, Dan had expected something like this in Greece. That when they took a break to breathe, Phil would give himself the time to really grieve the losses he’d experienced this year. But Greece had been beautiful on him, lovely in a way that reminded Dan of Portugal all those years ago. In a way that felt like freedom from responsibility and the freedom to be openly, unabashedly in love. 

“Phil,” Dan said, soft and helpless. “Love, it’s okay.” 

He only meant it was okay to let go. It was okay to let himself feel. 

“Don’t call me that,” Phil said, sharp through tears. He’d begun to shake, but when Dan moved to rub his back Phil only squeezed Dan’s arm more tightly ‘round his waist. “Don’t say it like it’s easy.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Dan said, kissing the crown of Phil’s hair, the bony apex of his shoulder. “You’ve been trying to reach me haven’t you?” 

“No.” Phil blew out a breath and then sucked one in, hard and broken. He held it, and Dan held his. “M-maybe.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dan said again. He thought then that maybe Phil tried to say it was okay, that it was all right, before he really began to cry. 

It wasn’t that Phil never cried. He didn’t cry as much as Dan did. Dan could cry over anything, big or small: heartbreak and frustration, happy and sad movies, dogs that were overwhelmingly cute, pictures of their friends when they had children. Holding their friends' children. Dan was a high feeler, and always had been. The way and the things he cried over had changed over the years, with therapy and him learning to permit himself moments to be okay with how big and overwhelming his feelings could be. 

Phil didn’t cry like that though; in eight years together, Dan could probably count on his hands—maybe even one hand—the number of times Phil had well and truly broken down. He’d cried at the funerals, sure, but those were silent, big tears. The sort he let Dan wipe away later, tucked away in a bathroom, with big steady hands and soft kisses. 

This was nothing like that. 

“It’s not j-just—” Phil hiccuped in a breath. “I’m tired, s-sometimes I’m still so tired and it-it doesn’t end—” Phil turned and bit down on Dan’s arm, which was now very wet with tears and probably snot as well. Dan didn’t say anything, just let Phil speak in broken whispers, reading his body as the tension slowly, slowly drained from his muscles. 

Eventually Phil’s tears slowed. He allowed Dan to roll him over, and didn’t complain when Dan used the corner of a sheet to wipe his face. Laundry hadn’t been on the to-do list for the day, but neither had this. Honestly, deadlines meant nothing, not if Phil needed him. 

Dan rubbed a hand soft and slow over Phil’s back, feeling the bumps and valleys of his spine, the way the knee Phil wedged between Dan’s was sharp with bones and not comfortable but somehow, so comforting. Years ago Phil might have drawn completely away from Dan with so much bottled up inside and refused to share. Dan was so glad they were on the other side of that now. 

“What do you need?” Dan whispered. “Do you want to talk now, or shower? I could make you coffee.”

“Don’t leave,” Phil said, eyes closed and body squirming to get closer. “Probably should shower though, I’m rank.” 

“C’mon then,” Dan said. He nudged Phil up. “I’ll go with you.”

* * *

He washed Phil’s hair and skin carefully, and massaged his shoulders. Phil was completely silent, so quiet Dan might have worried, were Phil not putting himself completely in Dan’s hands. Phil let himself be led out of the water, lifted his feet and arms as Dan dried his skin, methodical and gentle. 

“Now? Back to bed? Food?” 

Phil bit his lips. 

“Anything you like Phil, just tell me okay?” Dan brushed the hair that was flopping onto Phil’s forehead up and back.

“I kind of want to go to bed,” Phil admitted. “But I don’t remember when I showered last and I’ve been in bed since six yesterday.” 

Dan swallowed, appalled that he’d managed to miss that. “So I’ll change the sheets,” he said lightly. “You can sit with me if you like.”

“You don’t mind?”

“You spoon,” Dan said with a kiss, “Why on earth would I mind?” 

Phil shrugged. “I think I’ll make some coffee. And toast. Want some?” 

“I can do that,” Dan said. 

“I don’t mind, really. Will you be cross if I get crumbs in the sheets?” 

“Phil.” Dan pulled back and looked into Phil’s tired, red-rimmed eyes. “You could stick a loaf of bread in there and I would give less than a fuck.” 

“I should cry more often,” Phil tried to joke, “if it gets me toast in bed.” 

Dan rolled his eyes and laughed like he knew Phil wanted him to, and patted his bum. “Let’s get dressed then and we’ll meet back in bed, okay?”

* * *

Dan wanted to press but resisted the urge, knowing that Phil needed to do these things at his own pace. They ate toast quietly. Dan didn’t particularly want any but couldn’t very well say no when Phil presented him with it, a soft smile and a plate complete with a tiny ramekin of marmalade in case Dan wanted some. 

They’d been done with the toast for a while, Phil staring at the crumbs on his plate and Dan fidgeting in the silence, before Phil looked at him. 

“Let me take these,” he said, reaching for Dan’s. 

“I’ve got it Phil,” Dan said, dodging and getting Phil’s from him. There was some minor crumb casualty in the process. Sacrifices needed to be made, though, if Dan was going to take care of Phil today. 

“Dan—” Phil began, but Dan only kissed his cheek and climbed out of bed. 

“Stay. I’ll be right back.” 

He busied himself getting Phil a fresh cup of coffee, just how he liked it, taking some deep breaths to soothe the tremors that wanted to come, shaking them out of his hands. Deep, deep worry now squatted, heavy and unwelcome in Dan’s belly. He wondered how long Phil had been holding all of that in. God, how much had he missed? He’d _known_ this would happen eventually and then _still_ gone and gotten himself so tangled in his own feelings he’d fucked everything up by not _seeing_ what was right in front of him. 

“Here you go,” Dan said when he set Phil’s mug down next to him. Phil smiled brightly and murmured a quiet thanks. Dan smiled back, climbing over Phil and under the clean smelling sheets. He sat pressed against the headboard, waiting while Phil shuffled around until his head was comfortably on Dan’s shoulder. Phil took Dan’s hand, but not to hold it. Instead he played with Dan’s fingers, traced the lines of his palm, the shapes of his nail beds. The ragged edges of nails he’d been biting again.

“D’you want to talk?” 

“No. Yes.” Phil said, then laughed ruefully. “I mean, yes. But it sucks.” 

“It does indeed,” Dan said gravely. 

“It’s not just—I mean it is because I’m sad. But I’m...there’s so much work. I’m tired all the time. I worry because you’re doing this thing—” 

“Phil—” 

“—no Dan, please don’t interrupt,” Phil said gently. “It’s all right for me to worry over you, okay? It’s not because you’re doing anything wrong, or because I don’t trust that you’re doing your best. I mean...I love you. I want what’s best for you.” 

Dan frowned and bit back his own words, squeezing Phil’s fingers to let him know he was listening.

“I think I may have just...rerouted things. I didn’t want to think too much about grieving because...well you know how I am about death.” 

Dan nodded and closed his eyes, turning to inhale the comforting scent of Phil’s shampoo. 

“It’s just easier, sometimes, to throw myself into working. It’s been good, taking breaks this year, you know? Planning for rest before next year. But I think that...Greece just...was too good? I felt so good. Present. With you and us and h-how to enjoy everything without having to work so much.” 

“I loved it too,” Dan said, careful and low but very honestly. “Coming home has been a bit of a shock, after that.” 

“Yeah,” Phil said, noncommittal, like that wasn’t really it for him. “Dan, can I tell you something?”

Dan nudged Phil up so he could see his face. Phil bit his lip, refusing to meeting his eyes. “Phil, literally always.” 

“Filming...helping you film. For the video…”

“Yeah?” Dan prompted. Phil took a deep breath. 

“It was hard. It’s like,” Phil touched his chest, “like it woke something up.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know how to explain really. I used to be so scared, you know? Before we knew what to do and what was happening and...I thought that I’d gotten over that. Things got so much better and we were so busy.” 

Dan frowned and swallowed. It was hard, really hard, to be reminded of these things. Of the bad parts before he’d started working to get better. “I think I understand,” he said. “I don’t know if that goes away? Having feelings attached to memories.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, a wry look and a sharp poke to his thigh with an index finger still tangled with Dan’s. 

“Sorry, sorry. No therapy talk, I promise,” Dan said with a small laugh. 

“This week was a little bit too much. Everything was building up inside and this one thing made me feel afraid, or bad or—I don’t know. But then it all started to come up and I…” 

Dan waited, blinking and breathing long and slow so as not to freak out. The look Phil was giving him was both worried but upset.

“I tried to reach out, you know?”

“Phil, I am so, so sorry—”

“I know.” Phil’s words were simple and sincere. “You didn’t mean to do it Dan. But I did feel alone.” 

Dan nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. Dan had such a habit of focusing on his failures, and failing his partner was a big, painful thing. 

A big, painful moment that right now, was about Phil, _not_ him. 

“What can I do now?” Dan asked. He knew Phil had already accepted the simple apology, because that was how Phil worked. Phil could hold on to a grudge like no one else, but not this sort. Dan brought himself into the present. “What do you need?”

Phil thought about it. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought past how I’ve been feeling.” 

“I’m familiar with that one,” Dan said and Phil smiled, lopsided and tired, but not faked. 

“Maybe, today, could you just...be here with me?” 

“Phil, of course. Any and every day.” 

Phil rolled his eyes and tugged until Dan was lying down with him, half draped on him. He spoke into Dan’s curls. “Rat, you have a deadline. Don’t use me as your procrastination station.” 

“Phil Lester!” Dan cried, laughing helplessly into Phil’s armpit where Phil’s hold was squashing him. “You did not just—what the fuck—who even?”

“Hm,” Phil said, laughing but a bit smug. “You love it.” 

“Shut _up_ , I do _not_. I take it all back, you—” he broke off into shrieking giggles when Phil began to tickle him, and soon enough the duvet was on the floor and they were tangled in a sheet they’d pulled out from where Dan had tucked it. They were breathless and laughing and Dan couldn’t help but kiss the damp corners of Phil’s eyes. 

“You know it wouldn’t be procrastination, right?” he said, catching his breath and absorbing Phil’s lingering laughter with his lips. “That I’d do anyth—” 

“—yes.” Phil interrupted. “Please don’t get too heartfelt; I don’t know if I can take much more.” 

Dan pulled away and squinted. 

“I’m not squashing anything down or being in denial or whatever,” Phil said in a rush. “I just want you with me today. You just make me feel better.” 

“Stop,” Dan said, overwhelmed with fondness. “You’re lucky I like you, putting up with all these disgusting feelings.”

“Now you need to shut up,” Phil said, then manhandled Dan over onto his back, fully settling himself on top of him, tucked between Dan’s legs. He kissed Dan and sighed and lay his head right over Dan’s heart. Dan wrapped one leg around Phil’s and did not mention that Phil was squeezing the breath out of him. They stayed still like that for so long Dan was drifting off when Phil spoke, a small whisper against Dan’s chest. “I think I kinda like you.” 

Dan smiled and untangled his fingers from Phil’s hand to wrap it around his waist, tugging him even closer. 

“You’re going to be all right, you know?” Dan said. “We’re going to be all right.” 

Phil nodded and sighed. They had a plan. This year hadn’t been at all what they thought it would be, but then again, what in life ever was? But they had a plan for the future and even if there were hiccups, neither of them doubted they would get there eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know that your comments mean the WORLD to me. This fic was such a labor of love, knowing it's touched other people has been so affirming. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again, thanks to each person who has encouraged me along the way. 
> 
> Title from "After the Storm", by Mumford and Sons


	10. 2018 || any way to your wild heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-tour Dan struggles with when and how to come out. Phil does his best to help Dan through. 
> 
> “Through it all, Dan kept his eyes on Phil, forced himself to keep them that way even when Phil was sure they wanted to flutter shut. _You’re beautiful_ , Phil whispered against Dan’s lips. _You’re lovely_ , when Dan’s eyes shifted away. He whispered again and again, between kisses, until Dan could look him straight in the eyes, could take the words at their value and accept that he was worthy of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You make my work shine. And make sense. 
> 
> Thank you to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the brit picking brilliance.
> 
> This chapter was freaking *hard* to write, so many thanks to [intoapuddle](https://intoapuddle.tumblr.com/) for vibe checking and hand holding, and also to [daye](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/) for vibe checking the hella rough draft months ago. 
> 
> Updates every Tuesday! Fic is complete :D

**Rating: E**

**TW: allusion to Dan’s suicide attempt (vague thought, in no way graphic or specific). Discussion of mental illness. Discussions of coming out. Sexual dynamic involving teasing, sex scene with consentual d/s undertones (i.e. helping a partner get to a headspace where they can accept praise and let go of anxiety/worry). Scene will be marked off with *** if you wish to skip.**

**March**

Dan was still giggling when Phil turned the camera off. Phil was flushed; a familiar flirty tilt to his lips was both sweet and enticing. But when Dan reached for Phil’s leg, intending to put a hand on his thigh, Phil moved away. 

“I’ve got to get this sorted,” Phil said, looking at the ridiculous mess of the room they’d been recording games in all day. He fiddled with the camera, and then the computer, no longer meeting Dan’s eyes. 

“C’mon, do you have to do it now?” Dan asked, off-footed by the change in Phil’s demeanor. He struggled to hold on to his inviting smile.

“I’d rather do it now and not have to worry about it later.” Phil turned and kissed the top of Dan’s head absently. “Would you take the glasses to the kitchen for me, maybe?” 

“Er, yeah.” Dan , hooking his fingers around Phil’s mostly empty mug of coffee and his own empty mug which had held honey and tea. His throat always got scratchy toward the end of a long filming session. He shot Phil one last look before he left. Phil was hunched over the computer, muttering to himself about god knew what. Dan told himself not to take it personally. Maybe he just really did want to get things done before spending time with Dan.

* * *

Phil was on their bed picking the flower crown out of his hair when Dan found him an hour later. He watched from behind as Phil struggled to untangle it. Dan still felt a little soft and a lot needy after that last gaming session, what with the flirting and tension that had unexpectedly gone nowhere. 

“No, don’t,” Dan said, coming to stand in front of him, brushing Phil’s fingers away. Phil huffed, but scooted back when Dan nudged him so he could crawl onto his lap. “You look so good like this,” Dan said. Phil merely hummed. Dan kissed his cheek then moved his hips deliberately, just a little, trying to wheedle a response out of him. Phil smiled, but in a matter of seconds his fingers were right back in his hair, brow furrowed in frustration. 

“Some help would be nice,” Phil said, completely ignoring Dan’s clear _please fuck me_ vibes. Or _please let me fuck you vibes_. Hell just general _let’s fuck_ vibes. Dan wasn’t really fussed any way. If he was going to be forced to endure Phil being unfairly gorgeous in order to play a fucking card game on camera, he really wanted a reward for his suffering. 

“ _Phiiiil_.” Dan wasn’t above whining. 

“ _Daaaan_.” Phil, having apparently given up on his own ability to remove the flowers, took Dan’s hands and plopped them on his head. “We have things to do.” 

“Like each other?” 

Phil snorted. “Like editing videos. Like emails. I haven’t eaten in hours.” 

“Phil, we literally ate halfway through filming.” 

“Yeah, _hours_ ago,” Phil said. 

“Like _two_!” Dan pointed out. He carefully worked tangled strands of Phil’s fringe from the flower crown. Blatant flirting wasn’t working. Blunt invitation wasn’t working. Phase three, a little sweetness, couldn't hurt. “C’mon, I’ll feed you anything you want after.” 

“After what?” Phil asked. Dan rolled his eyes over Phil’s head where he was sure not to see it. Sometimes Phil was just epically dense. 

“Some cheeky bum sex?” It came out more hopeful than he’d planned, but he wasn’t above begging. Phil was just so beautiful all in black, his hair tousled and threaded with flowers. Dan thought Phil was beautiful always, but with his fringe up and his skin so lovely-pale, he was mouthwatering. And Dan was, well, Dan. Stressed and anxious and horny.

“No.” Phil had the grace to kiss the inside of Dan’s wrist sweetly, as if that could ease the sting of betrayal. “Food. I’m a growing lad. Philly has needs.” 

“What about Danny’s needs?” Dan said, then sighed, knowing when to give up. He put some effort into getting the fucking tease of a flower crown out of Phil’s hair. 

“Danny needs to be fed too. If you’re this whiny, hanger is about forty seconds away.” 

“Oi! Rude.” Dan finally got everything untangled, groaning as he climbed off of Phil’s lap. Straddling someone at the edge of a bed at his size was really not worth it if he wasn’t getting dicked down. 

“And yet here you are, still knocking at my door,” Phil sang, all fucking gorgeous smile and thoughtful hands tugging Dan’s shirt down for him. When he turned, leaving Dan a hopeless pile of man-child hormones, all he got was a great view of the gorgeous bum he would apparently not be getting any sex from, cheeky or not.

“It’s fifty percent my door, yeah? I’ll knock on it when I want.” 

“Okay, love, you do that.” 

“Rude,” Dan mumbled, following along nonetheless.

* * *

“Jesus, fuck!” Phil startled and grabbed the shower wall to keep from slipping. “Warn me next time, will you?” 

“I wish I could catch these moments on film,” Dan said, shuffling into the shower without asking. 

“I’m not going to be your cam boy, no matter how much you beg,” Phil said, stopping Dan’s hand as he tried to turn the heat up. 

“Mm, what if I begged for something else?” Dan said, crowding up close to him. Phil watched his hair curl in the steam, the way water sprayed off of his shoulders. 

“Dan, we have meetings in half an hour.” 

“Phil, I swear to god you’re doing this on purpose.” Dan gestured down to where he was sporting an impressive erection. 

“I haven’t done a thing! You came in here with that.” 

“That’s the problem.” Dan backed Phil up against the wall, hands coming to grip his hips, thumbs digging in hard. “Last night you actually used ‘but I have a headache’. Like, how is that even legitimate, you know that when you have a headache you just put me on my knees! Unless it’s a migraine.” Dan tilted his head. “Which it wasn’t. Something is going on and you’re not telling me. I have no idea what I’ve done to earn this mistreatment but honestly—” 

Phil cut him off with a kiss, letting himself sway into Dan’s touch for a moment. “Shush, you,” Phil whispered against his lips. “So dramatic.” 

“ _Phil_ , god—” Dan shuddered against him, movements erratic, pulling out of the kiss, lips making their way down Phil’s neck before biting his shoulder. Phil knew Dan like this, too nervy, too needy and on edge. He’d been winding himself up for days, anxious over meetings, overwhelmed by emails, allowing himself to hyperfocus on unimportant details in order to avoid thinking about the elephant in the room. 

Coming out. The video he had promised himself he’d make that he wasn’t making. 

The thing was, Dan wanted to come out to his family first, which Phil supported. Only the longer he went without doing it, freezing up at the mere thought of it, the more he spiraled. Dan was by turns snappish and sweet, needy and bossy. He’d taken to following Phil around at inconvenient moments, offering to help Phil with things that he didn’t need help with. At this point Dan was so worked up over the fact that he was stuck on coming out, he was procrastinating his procrastination. 

Watching him like this, slowly making himself mad with guilt and anxiety was so, so hard. It was tempting to give in. But he knew _this_ Dan and giving him what he wanted right now would be a stopgap. A plaster. Right now, Dan wanted distraction so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the mess of fear and guilt and anxiety broiling under the surface. Dan like this was an agitated bundle of needs he wasn’t sure how to name. Phil knew when to give him just enough but to make him wait for what he really needed, which was to be broken down so they could both get past that surface. Easy, quick sex wouldn’t do for that. Dan like this needed to get out of his head so that they could both help him get to the other side. 

“Here you go.” Phil slipped a hand between them. Dan groaned with relieved pleasure. 

“You clean? Can we go to our room?” 

“No time,” Phil whispered, biting Dan’s earlobe. 

“Come on Phil, it wouldn't be the first time we’d be late.” Dan got like this with sex sometimes. He’d start bossy, but end up whining. 

Phil slowed his hand until it was barely moving. “Dan, listen to me carefully. We wanted to be in charge of every aspect of this tour. That’s how it goes, right?”

“Yes,” Dan gripped Phil’s shoulders and fucked himself up into Phil’s hand until Phil pinned him to the wall. “We did.”

“So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re the bosses, Dan. I know that’s important to you.” 

“I know.” Dan slumped against Phil. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t just—I’ve been—” 

“Shhh.” Phil kissed the apology off his mouth. “I’m not mad. I’m here. I’ll be here.” He began to jerk Dan off in earnest. “And I know what you need. Trust me to give it to you.”

Dan whined and squirmed. “Okay. Oh, fuck. _Harder_.” 

“Harder, what?” 

Dan tensed, his whole body poised on the edge. “Nonono, _Phil_ —”

“One more minute until we have to go.” Phil bit Dan’s lip. “Is that a hard no?”

Dan groaned, fighting and fighting it until he couldn’t. “ _Please,_ ” he whispered. “Harder, please.”

“Here you are then,” Phil said, tugging and wrapping his hand over the head of Dan’s dick, sucking lightly just under his ear. Dan came and came, loud and holding Phil so hard he threatened to topple them with his weight. 

“What about you?” His eyes fluttered open when he was done, lashes wet and clumped, gaze sleepy and almost content. Almost, but not quite. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it later.” 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan said, hurt crossing his face. “I think that’s even worse than teasing me.”

“I promise I’m not holding out on you,” Phil said. “We really just have no time.”

* * *

“Phil.” 

“Dan.” Phil didn’t look up from the computer. 

“It’s been over two weeks.” 

“Since what?” Phil forced himself not to look up from the computer. 

“Since you fucked me.” 

“Has it? Hardly the longest we’ve gone, innit?” Phil said. “I’m sorry Dan, but I’ve really got to finish this email to Mar right now. Have you finished editing all of the videos?” 

“Seriously Phil, are you doing this on purpose?” Dan’s arms were crossed. Phil looked him over. Yeah, it would have to be soon. But not quite yet. 

“Dan, we’re on borrowed time, we need to get these things out and done.” 

Dan bit his lip, lifting a shoulder like he didn’t care. “I swear to god Phil, if you don’t do it soon I’m doing it myself.” 

“No you’re not,” Phil said, amusement leaking through in his tone. 

“Yep, and I’m using the purple one.” Phil paused, taking a moment to appreciate the mental image of Dan fucking himself on their largest toy. It was a pleasant thought. Phil gave his own dick a stern talking to. They’d all have to wait.

“No, you’re not,” Phil said with a small edge. Dan bit his lip but didn’t say anything else, leaving the room with a huff that left Phil laughing.

* * *

***

He didn’t see Dan again for hours. Phil could hear their voices, over and over, Dan’s laugh and his own giggle while they’d played _Cards Against Humanity_. He’d meant to edit that video when they filmed it over a week ago. Generally they had a fast turnaround—or tried—with the gaming videos. But Dan was strung so tight it was affecting everything: his ability to work effectively, his follow through, his demeanor, even his sleeping and eating patterns. And yeah, Phil was winding him up too. Nine years together meant that Phil knew Dan incredibly well. Dan needed out of his head for longer than the usual five minute post-orgasm high he rode until his anxious brain came back online at full chatter.

Dan still wasn’t done when Phil called it quits on his emails, shuffling into their bedroom and groaning like an old man. Phil was sore and stiff from hunching over his computer with poor posture so long. He changed into slightly less hideous pj pants and a tighter shirt he could _maybe_ claim was a pj shirt. Really, he just knew Dan fancied him in it. He read for about an hour, valiantly forcing himself to stay awake. If Dan was gone this long it could only mean he was determined to finish the video but was struggling with it. Or rather, struggling with persistent perfectionism that made him second guess every choice he was making. 

“Okay, you owe me.” Dan banged the door open and then shut. 

“What now?” Phil said, marking his page and setting his book aside. Dan was already stripping off his shirt and flopping onto the bed. 

“A back rub, a blow job, the fuck of the century, I don’t really care anymore.” 

Phil ran a thoughtful hand over Dan’s shoulder and down his lats. Dan had such a lovely back. 

“I mean I know you’re not going to fuck me because for some reason you’re determined to tease me to death,” Dan spoke into the bedspread. “And,” he cried, lifting his head suddenly, “you _know_ what you’re about, making me edit that video.” 

“Me?” Phil tried to pass it off as innocent. 

“Yes, _you._ ” Dan tried to crawl onto his lap. Phil had to shift toward the middle of the bed so Dan could straddle him, which necessitated a whole thing with rearranging pillows and Dan huffing adorably. 

When they were finally semi-comfortable, Phil settled back, watching Dan’s color come up. Watching Dan’s eyes slide into something softer, something sultry but mischievous. “Jesus, I was practically humping your leg after we filmed that fucking video. What did you think would happen, making me edit it?” 

“You usually like the editing,” Phil pointed out. He tightened his hands on Dan’s hips, which had begun to shift in tiny increments. 

“I like _you_ , usually.” Dan pushed Phil’s hands away, going for the hem of Phil’s shirt. Phil took them in his and sat up so he could hold them behind Dan’s back. “When you’re not being a sadistic wanker.”

“That’s the way to get your way. Insult the man you’re trying to hump.” 

“Shut up,” Dan said, biting his way into a kiss. Phil allowed it, nipping back and teasing with the tip of his tongue. 

“All right then.” Phil pulled away. He still had Dan’s hands behind his back. Dan threaded his fingers through Phil’s, gripping his hands tight. “Enough of that.” 

“ _What?_ C’mon, Phil.” Dan twisted his shoulders. Still, his hands didn’t lessen in their grip on Phil’s at all. Phil’s heart tugged again, seeing the ways in which Dan’s nature fought him. He wanted Phil to take charge and take him apart. Dan wanted to _let_ himself be taken apart, to put himself into Phil’s hands so that he could do so. In all the time he’d known Dan, no matter how much Dan had grown and learned to be kind to himself and to be okay with his desires and needs, there was still that small part of himself that didn’t trust that he deserved to ask for that much attention. Not this kind. Most of the time, Dan was able to counter that voice, to affirm that it was all right to _want_ to put himself in someone else's hands. Now was not one of those times.

“Daniel,” Phil said, not quite stern but with enough authority that Dan stilled. “What do you want?”

Dan squinted at him, suspicious. “I can ask for anything?”

“I always want to know what you’re thinking,” Phil responded. It wasn’t a promise, or even an answer. Dan _hated_ when Phil did that to him. When it came to other people, Phil’s ability to answer questions without answering them was a skill they both used and appreciated as a safeguard to their privacy. Phil generally didn’t use it between them unless they were arguing. In the past, Phil might’ve been guilty of doing it when he was storing resentments but was being too stubborn to talk about whatever was bothering him. 

“Phil,” Dan said, brow drawn, a little annoyance slipping through. 

Phil raised a brow and tugged on Dan’s arms. “Dan.” 

Dan held his gaze for a long beat, dangerously still, before sighing and closing his eyes. 

“I want to ride you. I don’t want you to prep me. I want it to hurt a little. I want bruises on my hips. I want it fast.” 

“Do you think you’ll get all of that?”

“I know I won’t.” 

“Don’t pout,” Phil said, nudging Dan’s cheek with his nose to get him to look up. “You know you won’t, why?”

Dan put his forehead on Phil’s shoulder and shrugged. 

“C’mon, I need to hear you say it.” Phil felt the twitch of Dan’s fingers, the way he inhaled and held it in and in, body too tight. Dan would let him take charge without words, and they both knew that Phil knew that. But it wasn’t the same without them. Consent wasn’t just necessary; it was a part of the process with Dan. Vocalizing what he wanted, asking for what he needed, trusting Phil to help him. 

“Because you’re in charge right now,” Dan finally said. He still didn’t look up, but he did move incrementally then, knees squeezing against the outside of Phil’s legs, forehead grinding against Phil’s collarbone. 

“Good,” Phil praised. He let go of Dan’s hands. “Keep them there, can you do that for me?” 

Dan nodded. Phil threaded his fingers through Dan’s curls and pulled his head back. “Open your eyes.” 

Dan obeyed. They were lined with tension, and somehow, a little sad. 

“You sure?” Phil asked, restraining himself from kissing Dan as softly as his heart felt toward him. Phil wanted to gentle Dan’s anxieties and the ways his brain fought him so hard. He knew, from experience, that the gentling couldn’t come just yet. 

“Yes, c’mon then,” Dan said, snappish, pulling his head forward so he could feel the tug of Phil’s fingers in his hair. Phil let go immediately and covered Dan’s lips with one hand. 

“Unless you’re saying please, yes or no, you need to keep this pretty mouth shut.” Dan didn’t move. Phil pressed his index and middle fingers against his lips, hard, pulling them away from his teeth. Dan nodded, slightly. “Good, that’s wonderful.” Dan’s eyes fluttered shut. He nipped, just a little, at the tip of Phil’s fingers. 

“Would you like something in your mouth?” Phil asked. He pulled Dan incrementally closer with a hand at the small of his back but kept his other fingers on Dan’s mouth. Dan sighed in assent. “Here then,” Phil said, pushing his thumb between Dan’s teeth. Dan sucked, immediately, drawing his tongue along the pad of it, scraping his bottom teeth on it. His cheeks were flushed brilliant red in spots, pale and freckled in others. Phil hooked his thumb into Dan’s mouth and held his chin still. He kissed the arch of a cheekbone and then licked Dan’s lovely freckles with tiny flickering touches of his tongue. 

Dan’s exhale edged on a whimper; he was trying to keep quiet, to stay still, even as his body twitched and leaned, swaying into Phil. Phil bit along the jut of his jawbone before sucking, hard, at Dan’s pulse point. Dan’s whole body jerked as he bit down on Phil’s thumb and moaned, twisting away and then back. He shook his head, eyes wide. 

“You won’t come,” Phil told him. He knew, worked up like this and fighting himself, how hair-trigger Dan could be. “You won’t come, will you?” Dan’s inhales were shaky and it took a long moment for him to settle and shake his head. 

“On your back then,” Phil said, sliding his finger from Dan’s mouth. Dan complied, biting his lip, hard. Keeping himself quiet, Phil supposed. “Hands over your head.” 

It was best like this, when he didn’t restrain Dan, because Dan had to do it himself. When Dan had to consciously choose to give Phil control every step of the way until he finally gave in and stopped fighting himself. 

Phil undressed Dan without ceremony, movements cursory and clinical. Dan let himself be lifted or tugged or directed. Let Phil arrange his arms so his left hand gripped his right wrist above his head. So his legs were spread, knees bent. Dan shifted and closed his eyes. It wasn’t shyness; nine years into their relationship and they knew each other’s bodies far too well to be shy. 

Letting yourself be on display, letting yourself be arranged passively, was a different story. It was a vulnerability. 

Phil ran a finger up the inside of one leg, into the sweet bowl at the apex of thigh and pelvis. Under Dan’s balls, where they were drawn up, then back down the other. He did it again, trailing three fingers, and when Dan shied away from the light tickling, Phil pinched. It was a light warning, a test. Dan moved his hips then, deliberately. Phil pinched harder, Dan’s sigh a language of his own. Phil licked the small red mark and then bit before sucking hard. He kept going, biting and sucking along Dan’s thighs, listening to the aborted sounds Dan was holding back. Most days this would be when Dan might tell him to go harder, or to get on with it already. Instead Dan tried hard to stay still. 

Phil paused to kiss Dan’s hipbone. “You’re lovely.” 

Dan shivered. 

“You’re doing so well,” Phil continued, now nipping at Dan’s belly, loving its soft give. “Would you like a reward?” 

Dan nodded, eyes closed, legs spread just as Phil had left them. Phil knelt up between them, ran wide, confident palms up the long line of Dan’s body, knee to hip to ribs, coming to circle his throat with a brief pause and a small squeeze that had Dan whimpering. Dan’s neck was so sensitive that being touched there always ran a razor's edge of pleasure or discomfort. Phil didn’t linger. He cupped Dan’s face. “Open your eyes, please.” 

Dan complied, gaze a little unfocused but still present, pupils wide. Phil kissed him, as gently as he could. He nudged Dan’s jaw with his thumbs until Dan was kissing him back. He gentled Dan out of urgent kisses, out of the demand for more, out of the straining need for something hard and hurting. Through it all, Dan kept his eyes on Phil, forced himself to keep them that way even when Phil was sure they wanted to flutter shut. _You’re beautiful_ , Phil whispered against Dan’s lips. _You’re lovely_ , when Dan’s eyes shifted away. He whispered again and again, between kisses, until Dan could look him straight in the eyes, could take the words at their value and accept that he was worthy of them. 

“You’re so good Dan,” Phil said then. He ached with it, because it wasn’t compliance or the surrender he was praising. It was Dan’s heart. “You’re doing so well.” Dan’s eyes sheened over. Phil kissed him again, softly. “You’re all right,” Phil promised. Dan shook his head and Phil knew Dan was thinking of the days he opened his email and closed it almost right away. Of torn pages on the floor, of half worked and reworked and trashed scripts for a coming out video Phil honestly wasn’t sure Dan was ready to make. Of family visits he promised himself he’d come out on, of the tension and let down when he couldn’t. 

Phil hated watching Dan punish himself. Phil hurt with Dan, ached for him on days he went to work on a video and ended up on the floor, thinking and thinking and thinking. Phil hurt, remembering all the nights spent holding Dan when he crawled into bed and Phil’s arms with lips bitten raw, all guilt and apology and self recrimination for the things Phil had to pick up because Dan let them drop. All the things Dan thought he was doing wrong because he was having a breakdown. No matter what Phil said or did, he knew Dan felt every moment of the breakdown he was having as failure. That he’d failed himself, that he was failing Phil.

Phil needed Dan to know it wasn’t like that. That they worked, that _everything_ worked, because it was the two of them. It wasn’t about who took on the weight of logistics. It was about what they gave each other in various parts of their lives that made this possible. Dan couldn’t see all of the ways in which he made a difficult, busy time bearable and worth it for Phil. How an unchecked or unsent email didn’t compare to dinners made at night, to shoulder rubs and easy care when Phil had a migraine, with the way Dan believed in him, always. Even when frustrated, impatient, or sometimes resentful, Phil could always find a way back to _this_. He knew—they both had known—that Dan coming off his meds meant there were no guarantees that Dan wouldn’t experience setbacks in the future. Phil wanted so badly for Dan to understand that setbacks weren’t failures, and that Phil didn’t need perfection. All he needed, all he wanted, was his partner at his side. For Dan to remember that they’d stuck through everything life had thrown at them _together_. 

There had been so many times when they’d each gone through something and made it to the other side based on the strength of their belief in each other. Phil was there to help Dan carry his load until Dan was back on his feet. Sometimes, Dan needed reminding, needed help finding his way back to that easy faith in their partnership. Phil didn’t care about the tiny details, and he only cared if Dan came out because _he_ wanted to, because he was ready to. But the longer it took, the more blocked Dan became, the more frequent the apologies became. No matter how he tried, Phil couldn’t help Dan shake away this idea Dan had internalized that he was holding Phil back. 

“You’re going to be all right,” Phil whispered. Dan shook his head, harder, and turned his face away. Phil let him, temporarily. He’d get Dan there. 

Phil moved to grab some lube and a condom, just in case. Dan’s eyes tracked every movement. 

Phil slipped one finger into Dan, watching him the whole time. He didn’t tease, but he wasn’t rough either. He didn’t rush like he knew Dan wanted him to. Dan squirmed, lips forming words he managed to keep in. Phil kept his finger still, feeling Dan clench around him. He put his free hand on Dan’s chest. Not constricting, not pressing. Reading Dan’s breath, grounding Dan in his body. He worked a second finger in. 

“Bear down.” He waited, watching Dan fight it. Sometimes, even still, Dan fucked like a dare, proving something to himself. When he was barely holding himself together, Phil caught flashes of the messy teenager he’d fallen for years ago. But Dan wasn’t that messy boy anymore. _They_ weren’t messy kids anymore, just figuring things out as they went, trailing mistakes behind them as they worked and worked a steep learning curve together. 

Phil knew it wouldn’t be good for Dan, like that, tonight. 

Dan’s body thrummed with tension. Phil dug the nails of his free hand into Dan’s chest, providing a sensation for Dan to focus on. Finally Dan gave in, bearing down, taking a third finger easily. His body bloomed then, opening and opening in each muscle and breath. When Phil guided Dan’s hands so he would be cupping the backs of his own thighs, Dan did. Phil rolled the condom on with shaking hands but practiced movements, then slid into him so, so easily. He moved in the tiniest, most controlled increments until Dan’s breath was a hitching mess, until he was shaking with the effort of holding back. 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan whispered. “Please.” His eyes were bright with unshed tears. He let go of his legs and wrapped them tight around Phil’s hips. Dan put his hands next to his head, a silent request. 

Phil stopped; Dan was throbbing around him, silent tears tracking back toward his ears. “Yeah, okay.” He tipped forward, wrapped his fingers around Dan’s wrists and pressed them down, hard. 

“Don’t make me come, I don’t wanna—” Dan started. Phil kissed him quiet, and then let go, fucking into him hard and fast. Dan grunted with each thrust, eyes closed and head tipped back. Phil kept going, until he knew Dan must be getting sensitive, until a drop of sweat rolled off of his brow and onto Dan’s cheek, until he knew Dan’s wrists would be red and bruised. Until he absolutely couldn’t help himself, coming in long, slow pulses, groaning with his face tucked into Dan’s neck. 

He pulled away, slipping out slowly. He unhooked Dan’s legs where they’d been wrapped around him. Phil removed the condom and then took each of Dan’s wrists in his, kissing the finger marks he’d left. Dan’s eyes were blurry, body lax and malleable. His cock had softened at some point. 

“You’re beautiful. You’re good,” he said again and again until Dan nodded. Phil kissed a smile into his mouth then. Worked his way down Dan’s chest, settled between his open legs. Took Dan into his mouth. Licked and suckled and lost himself in the lovely way his soft cock plumped up, in the way Dan’s breath picked back up, as if his body was waking up. Phil pulled off, wrapping a sure hand around him. 

“Pull my hair, move any way you want, if you like.” 

Dan nodded, eyes on Phil when Phil sank his mouth back down. But Dan didn’t fuck up into him. He didn’t even pull Phil’s hair in the end. He cupped Phil’s head as if it were something utterly precious and breathed his name like benediction, coming without warning, arching in a long lovely line, biting his lip and spilling, spilling, spilling into Phil’s mouth. 

After, Phil brought him some water. He made Dan sit and sip it, then arranged them under the covers, Dan’s large body the small spoon just as he’d always liked it. 

It was a long, long time before Dan spoke. Phil was drowsing, lips against Dan’s shoulder blade. 

“I think you still owe me some cheeky bum sex,” he said, and while it was slow and heavy it was _him_ , Phil’s Dan, teasing without the edge. “That was some much-too-serious bum sex.”

“It was _my_ card,” Phil said. “If anyone is getting cheeky bum sex, it’s me.” 

“It was all a long con, wasn’t it?” Dan said. 

“Dan, I doubt I’d ever have to con you into sex.” 

“Point. I am rather easy aren’t I?” Dan pressed back into Phil. Their bodies were in contact every place possible; Phil wasn’t sure if there was any way for them to get closer. His body knew the hunger for closeness of this sort though, and he was happy to give as much as he possibly could. 

“Why d’you think I keep you around?” 

“You love me, Phil Lester,” Dan stated. Phil inhaled Dan’s scent and sex and his own scent all mixed up. He brushed his lips against the back of Dan’s neck, contentment bright and fizzing even as he began to fall asleep. These were the best times, the ones when Dan had no doubt, needed no confirmation. When they were both so sure of each other they could just _be_. 

***

* * *

When Dan woke the next morning it was to heavy rain, a day so deep grey their apartment was steeped in gloom. Phil was fast asleep, hands folded under his pillow, mouth open and breathing deep. For the first time in weeks, Dan hadn’t jerked out of sleep, heart pounding, anxiety bubbling before he’d had a chance to wake properly. 

He’d wallow in the peace today, as long as he could. Permission to rest from worry was something he struggled with, which had been monumentally destructive to his mental health recently. Especially because it was so detrimental to his actual productivity. Anxiety and fear had paralyzed him to the point that he was getting nothing done but falling apart over what he needed to do but couldn’t. His lips were bitten raw, his nails stubs, his body exhausted from lack of sleep.

Today he was pleasantly loose and grounded, present in his body but in a way that felt good, rested. He catalogued and appreciated the parts of himself that were wonderfully sore. Dan closed his eyes and drowsed, breathing deeply and mindfully. Each inhale and exhale were the same length, were afforded the same amount of attention and intention. 

Dan didn’t know how long he lay, sort-of awake but not quite. He came back to awareness at the sound of rustling sheets, then Phil’s hand warm and welcome on his hip. 

“Did I wake you?” Phil asked, voice cobwebbed with the vestiges of sleep. 

Dan rolled over. “No, I was just resting. Mindfully.” He offered Phil a rueful smile. 

“Good.” Phil ran his hand up to Dan’s waist and then to his shoulder and down his arm. Dan gripped his hand, hard. 

“I think...I think I’m more scared to come out to my family than the fans,” he admitted, rushed words that took even him by surprise. “I don’t think they’ll like, stop loving me or whatever. But I just...every time I try, I can’t.”

“Yeah?” Although Phil’s inflection was that of a question, it didn’t mask the knowing in his voice. These were things Phil already knew, of course. Phil blinked and scooted a tiny bit closer. Dan curled his legs so his knees touched Phil’s. Dan wasn’t doing more than vocalizing, finally, what had been obvious for so long. Dan needed to hand some of the crushing weight of fear and failure to Phil, just for a little while. Until he could somehow make it through. 

Alone in his mind, it had become impossible to hear Phil’s assurances over the last few months. Somehow, Dan had spiralled into a space where words lost their real meaning, where he’d begun to give up hope that he’d ever feel better. But Phil _knew_ him. Phil was there, as he’d always been. Last night he’d done something, just the right thing, to crack open the shell of fear and isolation in which Dan had closed himself off. Now Dan was ready to speak. Even if they both already knew what Dan was saying, the words needed out.

“And I’m scared of saying the wrong thing. I’m afraid I’ll forget something important.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Dan sighed and closed his eyes. “In the video. I can picture what I want, how I want it to look. But every time I try to write it there are so many things I want to say I feel like I’m writing a book, not making a video.” 

“What if you did it like that though?” Phil said. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Write it like a book. Or a short story. Make categories or chapters or themes.”

“It’ll be long,” Dan said. He actively resisted the urge to bite his lip. Instead he squeezed Phil’s hand, hard. _I’ll have to tell him_. After all these years, Dan knew that to do this properly, to explain the really complex stuff, he’d have to talk about things he’d kept secret from Phil. Just contemplating it, trying to parse _how_ he’d tell him, what words to choose, churned a deep fear in his stomach. 

Today was a day for rest, a day Dan was allowing himself not to worry. He exhaled and made himself table that fear for later. 

“So it’s long.” Phil shrugged. “It won’t matter. It’s an important video. It’s your truth. Make it as long as you need to feel safe and comfortable sharing it.” 

“What if I can’t do it?” Dan asked. “Come out to my family, I mean.” 

“The timeline is yours, Dan,” Phil said softly. He kissed the tip of Dan’s nose. “This is your life. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to wait until you’re ready, or do it however you want.” 

“Well, at least at the end of the day, you’ll still love me,” Dan joked. “Even if I make you have the same conversation with me over and over.”

“Oh, Dan.” Phil untangled their fingers and brushed them through Dan’s frizzy bedhead. “I can’t promise you that your family will still love you, because it isn’t a promise _I_ can make, even if I _am_ sure of it. I mean, maybe things are gonna be more complicated or strained with them after. But it’s not like you haven’t done complicated and strained before, right?” 

“It’s so hard, Phil,” Dan said. “When I think about it, it’s like…” 

“Being vulnerable?” Phil suggested. Dan shrugged. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever felt safe enough with for that. And once it’s out there, once everyone knows, I can’t ever take it back. I’m so scared it’ll feel like that forever. That I’ll never _not_ feel totally exposed.” 

Phil sighed. “Obviously my experience is different from yours. But from my experience, you will and you won’t. You’ll finally get to be _you_ , and that’ll take getting used to. But you _will_ and it’ll be great. Because you—the _real_ you—is so incredible. Not having to hide, all the time, is such an amazing feeling.” 

Phil traced Dan’s eyebrow, his lips. Memories of the night before rushed through him, warm and bright. Phil really was the only person who knew what Dan needed, even when it was complicated. Not always, but sometimes even when Dan had no idea what he really needed. Dan had known for a while that he needed _something_. He thought he knew what, but last night he’d put his trust in Phil to take care of him. 

“I’m still going to try to write the script now. And to try to come out to my family before the tour,” Dan said. 

“All right.” Phil kissed him so softly, with so much sweetness, Dan ached. He closed his eyes. 

“Tell me it’ll be okay if I don’t manage to,” he whispered. 

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil said, breath punched out like he’d been hurt, or surprised. 

Dan opened his eyes, searching Phil’s for a long moment. “I know. I know I need to accept this for myself. I know I shouldn’t depend on you to make everything okay. It’s just nice to hear it.” He thought of Phil, whispering words against his skin the night before, trying so hard to help Dan believe them. 

“It’ll be okay,” Phil said. “You’re going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, your comments mean the WORLD to me. This fic was such a labor of love, knowing it's touched other people has been so affirming. Thank you to every one of you that has left me a comment along the way. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Again, thanks to each person who has encouraged me along the way. In addition to those mentioned above, Mandy, Cal and Autumn who have been helpful and particularly encouraging. 
> 
> Title of this chapter comes from "Wild Heart" by Bleachers.


	11. 2019 || our story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to coming out. Dan and Phil process the making of BIG and what their future might hold in a post-coming out universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand thanks and more to [insectbah](https://insectbah.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta. You literally went so far above and beyond for this fic, I haven't the words for how deeply I appreciate what you've done for me and for this fic. 
> 
> Thank you also, dearest [intoapuddle](https://intoapuddle.tumblr.com/) for vibe checking and hand holding and being the most A+ cheerleader.

**TW: Reference to anxiety. Reference to Phil’s fainting episode. Mention of Dan’s suicide attempt in context with the making of BIG. Not detailed, but more of a focus on Phil processing and on them discussing why Dan never told him. Dan telling Phil isn’t on page. I did my best to approach this particular aspect of the story as someone who’s been in a similar position. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me.**

**Rating: M**

**January**

January was always one of Dan’s favorite times of the year. Sure, there were plenty of times during the year when he was lazy, or when he got sucked into a gaming hole or plain found ways to avoid doing things that needed to be done. The pyjama week they granted themselves each January had a different feeling. Perhaps it was the permission, the intention. Dan was able to rest without that constant nagging in the back of his brain reminding him he had things to do, whispering that he was lazy or a failure. 

He knew he wasn’t. They were just persistent thoughts that were hard to turn off. 

For one beautiful week in January, he got to, and there was no guilt. Well, that was generally the plan.

This year was a bit harder. He and Phil were so mentally and physically exhausted that they were shuffling zombies, communicating in grunts. Dan lay in bed for hours at a time. He didn’t even game, and watching shows felt like enormous effort. Even Phil was listless and short-tempered. He got like that when he was tired or when Dan hovered. 

It was hard not to hover, not when Phil complained of headaches more often than he had in months. The headaches he’d had in the blur of tour recovery and film editing made sense. Not that Dan had found a way to forgive himself for writing off how poorly Phil had been feeling in November, or that he’d ever forget how terrifying it was to find Phil on the floor after he fainted. Lingering fear after that event never really left, so when Phil had complained of a headache the night before, Dan had brought him ibuprofen and water, asked if Phil needed tea, and offered to turn the lights off and give Phil a back massage. And okay, maybe he’d generally been Too Much. It still stung when Phil snapped at him to please stop and leave. 

Dan could tell that Phil had woken with the same headache and in the same foul mood. He watched Phil get himself coffee, fingers clumsy, spilling it on the counter. Dan ate his cereal without saying a word, looking away whenever Phil turned toward him. It ached, not being allowed in, not being allowed to help take care of Phil. Hopefully he would be once Phil got over his stubborn refusal to let Dan worry about him. 

He wanted to ask Phil if he needed medication. Instead, he offered some of his cereal. 

“You’re sharing today?” Phil said, not as sharp as Dan anticipated. 

“I guess so,” was all Dan said with a falsely nonchalant shrug. Phil almost smiled at him—it was in the corners of his eyes—but instead helped himself to some without comment. He sat next to Dan and crunched in silence for a while before finally, finally, nudging Dan’s foot with his. 

“Sorry for being an arse,” he said, dripping milk onto the table from his suspended spoon. 

“Sorry for hovering,” Dan said. He sipped his tea and bumped Phil back. “And worrying. Or being annoying with it.” 

“Don’t be sorry for worrying,” Phil said. “I worry sometimes too.” 

Surprise shot through him. “What d’you mean? I’m fine.” 

“Are you though?” 

Dan sighed and got up to put his bowl in the sink. There was coffee and sugar all over the counter. The cabinet door for the mugs was open. Everything was as it had been through years and years of living together. Dan wiped up the mess quietly; he’d become resigned to these things a long time ago, mostly. Maybe not when he was grumpy. But still, he’d challenge anyone to live with Phil and not get irritated from time to time. 

“Yes. I’m tired. We’re tired. I don’t know what comes next. I know we’re supposed to talk about it next week.” 

“We can now if you like,” Phil offered. Dan scoffed. 

“With you feeling like shit and me all...me?” He closed the dishwasher with a snap. “Naw. Next week’ll be fine.” 

“You sure?” Phil had his eyes closed, hands wrapped around his coffee mug. Fondness seeped through the numb exhaustion and worry clouding Dan’s brain. Dan wandered back over to the table and offered Phil a quick kiss. 

“Yeah.”

* * *

He’d meant it when he said he wanted to wait. The reality was that they did need to plan though, and the need to make decisions loomed. But Dan couldn’t help but obsess. They’d made a plan, years ago. A timeline. It hadn’t always gone the way they wanted, but for the most part, they were in the final stretch of the first phase. 

What came after coming out? A life for themselves? A sharper divide between their real lives and their fans? An open invitation into more personal aspects of their lives? A continuation of their careers as things had been? Going and going and going? The point of the tour was to share something with the fans, but also to signal a coming change. Dan hated that he didn’t know, couldn’t feel sure in his heart what that meant. What would make him happy. 

There were things Dan wanted for his future—that Phil wanted—and he didn’t know how to navigate having them and what they had now. Or had had, before they’d paused. Truthfully, it was almost impossible for Dan to think past coming out. Past what it would take for him to get there. 

Wrapped in his pimp blanket, draped awkwardly on the sofa, Dan was jolted from his rumination by Phil lifting Dan’s legs and plopping himself onto the couch. 

“Oi! I was comfortable!” 

“So?” 

“There’s other places to sit!” 

“Yeah, but none of them contained a Danny, and I wanted one.” 

“Well this one is busy,” Dan said, trying for an annoyed tone and tucking his face into the blanket to hide a smile. 

“You’re thinking too loudly.” 

“Shut up, there’s no such fucking thing.” Dan hated when Phil said that. He said it all the time and he was always right, but Dan wasn’t about to admit it. Phil’s hands found their way into Dan’s blanket burrito. Dan sighed when Phil started massaging his feet. Manipulative fucker knew all the ways to get past Dan’s defenses. “All right, what did you want from me?” 

“Just some time.” 

“What kind?” Dan turned to try to see Phil. 

“Put your head over here instead of your feet and we can do whatever you like. Talk, watch a show, practice whale speech.” 

“Phil,” Dan said, slowly wiggling himself around the couch—well, trying to—without falling off. It took some effort, but eventually he was turned the right way, head uncovered and in Phil’s lap. Phil played with his curls, one at a time. “You know that whale speech isn’t a thing, right?”

“You don’t know that! Whales communicate!” 

“I meant _we_ can’t do it.” 

“If Dory can, we can,” Phil said staunchly. “I bet if we pitched that and managed to make it into a game, we’d always win.” 

“Phil, this is why our friends don’t want to play team games with us,” Dan pointed out. 

“Is it? I’ve forgotten what it’s like.” Dan knew Phil well enough to feel the melancholy under the levity. 

“Let’s put it on the list,” Dan said. 

“What, psychic game time?” 

“Time with friends. Not having to say no all the time.” 

Phil’s lips curved in a soft smile. They were soft against Dan’s forehead when Phil kissed him. It had been a while since anyone other than their core friends had asked them to hang out. 

“Dan,” Phil said, tugging on a curl. “Talk to me, please?” 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“The video?” Phil’s voice was even. Sometimes Dan wanted Phil to be disappointed in him. Wanted to have a reason to feel guilty other than the pressure he put on himself. Twisted thinking, twisted wishes, he supposed. Wanting the responsibility taken from himself. Feeling like he’d _have_ to do it, for someone else’s happiness. 

“No.” Dan flopped over so his face was buried somewhere by Phil’s hip. “The video, making other videos. The fans. I don’t want to let them down. I think I need a total break if I’m really going to do this.” 

“Then we take a break,” Phil said immediately. Dan froze. 

“I didn’t mean you. You don’t have to.” 

“Well I know that, silly. I mean…” Phil bit his lip, choosing his words with care. “This isn’t just about you. _We’re_ coming out to them. _We’re_ inviting people in. I know this video is about a lot more than that. I don’t want you to think I mean differently. I...we’re a team. We decide together what we can and can’t do, what you do or don’t need, for this to work.” 

“Because I have to do this,” Dan said, something final and hot and sharp in his belly. 

“No,” Phil said. “You don’t. I’d never—” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Dan couldn’t keep the irritation from leaking through. “I can’t keep living like this Phil. I _want_ to do it. But what comes after? Who will I be?” 

“I wish I could answer that for you, love,” Phil said. Dan closed his eyes and breathed Phil in. “I’ve been thinking...” Phil started. Dan opened his eyes. 

“I thought this was no thinking week.” 

“Well you cheated too!” 

“You’ve been sneaky thinking then,” Dan accused.

“Not the point,” Phil said, poking Dan’s cheek. “I do want to keep making videos. I don’t know about liveshows. I…” 

“Nothing that makes you anxious, Phil,” Dan said softly. “I don’t want you anxious.” 

“I wish it was that easy,” Phil said. Dan sat up, untangling himself from his burrito with difficulty. He climbed onto Phil’s lap with a thump that made Phil groan. 

“I can’t take your anxiety away,” Dan said. “But you don’t have to do things that make you anxious. I don’t either.” 

“Maybe I can restructure. I don’t know.” 

Dan kissed the worry lines on Phil’s forehead. “Take a break from them. We can figure that out later.” 

“It feels like giving in,” Phil said, laying his head on Dan’s shoulder. 

“To what?”

“To the anxiety. Like I’m not controlling it, it’s controlling me.” 

“No, babe. Managing your life, reducing stress, taking care to protect the things you need to be happy—” 

“I didn’t realize loud-thinking-Dan was therapy-Dan,” Phil interrupted. 

“I’m always therapy-Dan now,” Dan said. 

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Phil complained with a put-on pout. 

“Mate, you signed up for a fucked-up kid who had no idea who he was.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, very, very quietly. “It wasn’t just you that was a mess. Maybe we were both a mess. We were definitely kids. But I signed up for _you_. I wanted _you_.” 

Dan rolled his eyes. “That’s the same thing.” 

“No,” Phil said, hands gripping Dan’s hands, hard. “Our mess was one part of the whole. You were and are the best person I’ve ever known. You made me happier than I ever thought I could be. That’s who I wanted. That’s who I _want_.” 

Dan swallowed hard. “So all the rest?” 

“We figure out what it means to take a break. How much of a break.” 

“That simple?” 

Phil kissed him then, a little longer, just as sweetly. “No.” He let go of Dan’s hands to haul him into a hug. “Not simple at all.”  
**March**

Phil was in front of the computer, waffling over final details for his latest video when he heard a door slam, hard. He found Dan by the front door, hands on his knees, panting. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Phil asked. Dan shied away when Phil tried to touch his shoulder. 

“Don’t, I’m disgusting,” Dan managed between breaths. His hair was curled with sweat, and when he stood up, his face was flushed red with exertion. 

“How did you manage...it’s not even hot out?” Phil watched a drop of sweat work its way down the side of Dan’s face. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was weird, right, to actually find something that should be gross...the opposite of gross? It wasn’t the sweat Phil found attractive, really. It was _Dan_ , high-colored and pleased with himself. They didn’t talk about it, but Phil had definitely noticed that running had boosted Dan’s confidence. Helped center him. 

Whether it was the distraction, feelings of accomplishment, or a decided goal on the horizon that was in his control, Dan’s decision to take up running had a decidedly positive effect on him. Phil found it disarming and helplessly attractive. 

“Not a chance, mate,” Dan said, pulling Phil from where he’d gone and lost himself in a haze. 

“What are you on about?” Phil moved to the side, following Dan through the house to the bathroom. Dan stripped his soaked shirt off in the hall, pulling down his trackies as well. Phil sort of kicked them along the floor into a semi-neat pile for Dan to pick up later. 

“You’re not fucking me right now,” Dan said. Phil leaned against the wall of the bathroom, enjoying the movement of muscle in Dan’s back, the extra curl brought out by sweat. Dan was testing the water temperature and giving Phil a _look_. “What kind of weird fetish is this anyway, a sweat kink?” 

“Is that even a thing? Finding a thing hot doesn’t always have to be a kink. Besides, it’s not just the sweat.” 

“Well, still. You’ll have to wait; I’m half dead and starving.” Dan stepped into the shower. Phil was only slightly disappointed. He had too much to do for sex anyway, and besides, he knew if he were the one training for a marathon, he’d probably murder Dan for approaching him after a run. There was nothing sexy about feeling like a wrung out rag of overused muscles. Or well, maybe there was, but not for him. 

Phil opened the shower door, ignoring Dan’s indignant cry. He grabbed Dan’s chin and gave him a fast, hard kiss, ignoring the mist of water that sprayed his face. “What d’you want to eat?” he asked. 

“What’re you up for?” 

“I already ate, so anything you like?” 

“Protein shake?” Dan asked hopefully. Phil restrained a grimace. The protein shakes were disgusting and the powder smelled atrocious. Both Dan and Adrian insisted he was being fussy when he complained about it. It was always so lovely seeing Dan and Adrian share something; Phil didn’t have the heart to protest. He’d even drunk the protein shakes after exercise for a full month in solidarity. 

“Sure,” Phil said. He pinched Dan’s earlobe, laughing when Dan swatted his hand away. 

“With no mess!” Dan called as Phil turned to leave. “I’m not cleaning up after you!” 

Phil laughed all the way to the kitchen. It wasn’t time for lunch and he really wasn’t hungry, but if he made himself lunch now, it would be a communal kitchen mess. Definitely appropriate for the instigation of a rock paper scissors battle over who’d have to clean up. He knew Dan would counter his admittedly muddled logic, but Phil also knew exactly what buttons to push to get around Dan’s logic any day of the week.

* * *

Dan was stretched along the entire length of the sofa valiantly trying to stay awake. He was tired and sore, but the good kind of sore. The kind that felt like accomplishment. He was slowly improving his running times and actually accomplishing something. Secretly, he harbored a worry that he wouldn’t be ready for a marathon, that he might not be training properly. He pushed that worry down and away. There were only so many things Dan could be anxious about at once while maintaining his mental health. Right now, he really, really needed to stay focused. 

No matter how many times Phil told him he should come out on his own schedule, when _he_ was ready, Dan had reached a breaking point. He really couldn’t handle living in the glass closet he’d created any longer. A better life, his best life, was on the horizon, and for the first time, Dan could really see it. He’d known, or thought, or wished it might be there for so, so long. 

He didn’t feel ready in the way he thought he might in the years leading up to this. He’d always imagined that _ready_ would mean _easy_. Or at least, easier. This didn’t feel easy, but it felt necessary. Nothing had changed in his life, only everything had changed internally to make this knowledge more concrete. He'd taken a break the past few months to focus on himself without the external noise of videos and touring. To watch Phil, quietly, as they lived their lives together in the most open secret possible. He knew, in his heart, that Phil really didn’t resent Dan for any of this. He didn’t resent how long it had taken Dan to get here, where he was. He’d seen Dan at close to his worst. They’d weathered a whole lot together over the course of a decade. Well, almost a decade. 

A decade in November. Dan didn’t feel nearly old enough to say that. Almost twenty-eight and he’d spent his entire adult life with a partner. Never, ever, could eighteen-year-old Dan have anticipated this. Hell, how many people nowadays did? Who really found someone so perfectly tailored for them as a teenager and managed to make it last through so very much?

Phil came into the living room, jumper sporting small wet spots from accidentally splashing himself while cleaning the kitchen. He jostled Dan’s knee with his own to get his attention. Phil was grumbling, but when Dan lifted his legs, Phil sat and plopped them right back in his lap before Dan could scoot away to make more room. 

“How do you always win?” he complained. 

“I don’t! I had to clean the shower last week, remember?” 

“Still.” Phil’s eyes were closed. He was slumped into the sofa, head tilted back. He looked almost as tired as Dan felt. Dan wondered if he could persuade Phil to nap with him. “I’ve been keeping track. You’re definitely in the lead.” 

“You’ve been keeping track?” Dan poked Phil’s bicep and held his hand out. Phil handed over his phone with no fuss. True to his words, in his notes was a tally of who had won rock-paper-scissors the most. “Wow, I’m slaying you. This is almost as bad as Mario Kart.” 

“Oi, shut it you.” Phil’s hands were warm, wrapped around Dan’s crossed feet. Dan wiggled his toes. “What, now you want a foot massage after making me clean the kitchen?” 

“If you’re offering,” Dan said. Phil’s quiff was a mess and his jumper didn’t match his sweatpants. His hair needed to be dyed soon and Dan was still helplessly, hopelessly in love with him. Phil’s hand ran up and down Dan’s bare leg—what on earth was the point of wearing trousers if the flat was warm anyway? When he turned to Dan, his eyes were thoughtful. He wore that sort of assessing look he got when he was about to make a deal or propose an idea. 

“Yes,” Dan said immediately, already sure of what Phil was about to propose. Phil snorted, but picked up Dan’s left foot. Dan dropped his head back and groaned. His feet were so often sore from the running. A foot massage might have been something sensual shared between them for years, but this year the pleasure of pain relief was sexier. The flat was silent. Dan felt suspended in this lovely bubble, a moment just between them, one where they spoke without words. With the knowledge of shared history, of a script they both lived by without ever needing to have written it. For years, they’d protected this space, the home they made together, everywhere they went. For years, they’d been afraid of what opening their lives might do, how it might affect this precious thing they’d made. 

Dan knew now, though, that a decade of moments, mundane and dizzying and unbelievable and comforting in familiarity, was strong enough to keep this whole. 

Phil squeezed his ankle to get Dan’s attention. He had no idea how much time had passed, but his feet did feel wonderful. 

“Are you going to pretend to complain the whole time?” Phil asked, nudging Dan’s feet off his lap, dark-eyed and focused like he got sometimes when they fucked. Dan crawled onto his lap and kissed him briefly, pushing Phil’s hair back off his forehead. 

“When do I ever complain about sucking your dick?”

Phil laughed, helping Dan scoot onto the floor. “Never when your mouth is full, maybe later then.” 

“You know I never mean it,” Dan said lightly, helping Phil out of his clothes. 

“If you did, I’d be worried,” Phil said, then sighed when Dan ran his hands up the insides of his thighs. “I’d think there might be something wrong with you.” 

“I can’t help it,” Dan said, kissing Phil’s knee then up, up, up the soft skin of Phil’s leg to his groin. “Oral fixation is a serious problem.” 

“Only when you won’t shut up and get down to business,” Phil said, threading his fingers through Dan’s hair and tugging on it. 

“You love it, rat,” Dan said, then got busy. 

“Yeah,” Phil said, fingers still tight in Dan’s hair. He could have meant anything. That he loved Dan, that he loved the way they touched each other. That he loved all of the unspoken words that passed beneath and through the simplest interactions. Honestly, he probably meant whatever was simplest, as he wasn’t given to deep emotional conversations when getting sucked off. 

Truly though, it didn’t matter. Because any of those meanings were the product of seeds sown over the years and Dan was so, so very happy to accept any and all of them.  
**June**  
Dan wandered past the office again, ghostly and slow, trying to hear what part of the video Phil was watching. He’d been doing this every five minutes for a while now. Worryingly, he hadn’t heard a sound for the last twenty. 

He’d been asking Phil’s advice and opinion on different cuts of the video since he’d cobbled the first draft of it together. They both knew it was far from any video he’d ever made, the least of which was length alone. Dan always sought Phil’s advice and input on his work. Phil brought a more critical eye, an editor’s hat that differed from Dan’s. He was Dan’s biggest supporter, which meant that regardless of his criticism, he wanted Dan’s work to be the best it could be. 

After Dan had re-edited, taking Phil’s advice into consideration, he’d brought the second draft to him, red-eyed with exhaustion and sore from the constant tension of anxiety. Phil had asked, quietly, if he could work alone while he watched this version. Which was odd, but Dan couldn’t deny that he _was_ hovering a tiny bit. 

Only, Phil had been in there for hours. He hadn’t even come out for coffee or a snack—in fact, when Dan offered to bring him something, Phil hadn’t even turned around to decline. 

Half an hour of silence later, Dan resigned himself to sitting in a curled up ball on the couch, biting his fingernails. What if Phil suddenly realized it was awful? What if Phil was trying to find a gentle way to tell him he needed to make huge changes? What if this changed something about how Phil saw Dan? 

But no. Dan sighed and made an effort to take his fingers from his mouth. Nothing could change that. They’d already talked through everything he’d put in the video. They’d worked through Phil’s reaction to reading the script, the way he’d retreated into himself while making sure to support Dan at the same time. 

Dan pulled out his phone and then eventually his computer, trying to lose himself by mindlessly scrolling. Nothing held his attention. Music grated at his ears; he could shower or take a bath to try to calm his rising anxiety, but he didn’t want to not be there when Phil came out. The light was waning and Dan realized with a start that he’d been sitting in an anxious ball for over an hour waiting on Phil. 

He knew he was meant to give Phil space, but he couldn’t take the not knowing any longer. 

“Phil?” Dan knocked, quietly, startled by his own action. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed to knock on a door when Phil was home. Generally they knew when the other needed privacy; other than trips to the loo, there wasn’t ever a need for closed doors. 

“Yeah?”

Dan had to strain to hear him, and he cracked the door. “Can I come in?” 

“Sure,” Phil said. He was playing with the computer mouse, flicking it back and forth with one hand. “Actually, I’d—could we sit somewhere else? I think I’ve been in this chair so long my butt has become one with it.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Dan said and smiled. The office was dark. The computer was off. Dan’s belly tightened. 

“Tea?” Dan offered when Phil flopped onto the couch. Phil shook his head and held his arms out, pulling Dan in until he was tucked between Phil’s knees. 

“Phil, you all right?” Dan asked, trying to turn. Phil had him in a strong grip, stronger than usual. 

“Sure,” Phil said. He was far away though, in his head. Dan tried to relax against him. They had a wide couch, wide enough for them to snuggle if they wanted. Still, they were both tall, awkward men. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to sit, but Phil seemed to want him close. And quiet. Every time Dan started to speak, or even took a breath to speak, Phil would shake his head minutely against Dan’s neck. 

“It’s really good,” Phil said eventually. The sun was almost fully set and Dan was starving. Not that he was going to mention it. Pretty soon his stomach would get loud enough to give him away anyway. “It’s just hard to watch.” 

“I understand,” Dan said slowly. “You don’t have to help, if it’s too hard.” 

“No.” Phil squeezed him. “I want to. I am going to. It’s...just…” Phil sighed deeply, warm breath skittering over Dan’s neck. Dan squirmed. “Soz,” Phil said absently. 

_You knew everything that would be in it_. Dan bit his tongue. 

“I didn’t think it would keep hitting me so hard. And you made some changes.” 

“Yeah,” Dan said, knowing now exactly what Phil was talking about. 

“I couldn’t understand quite what all was being said,” Phil started. “The part with all the voices overlapping.”

“Oh, Phil, you didn’t unlayer them did you? I told you not to—” Dan squeezed Phil’s knee and blinked hard. 

“I know.” 

Dan tried to turn in Phil’s arms, eventually managing, despite some misplaced knees and almost knocking Phil off the couch. He pushed back the hair that had fallen onto Phil’s forehead. “That section needed something, even _you_ said so.” 

“I know I did. Your changes were good.” Phil was sincere—Dan doubted Phil would be able to be insincere with him, even if he wanted to. 

“Are you still upset that I kept it from you?” Dan asked, eyes trained on his fingers, tangled with Phil’s. _You said you weren’t. You promised it was okay_. 

“No,” Phil said slowly. “It’s not that really. It’s...I mean partly it’s just hard to hear. What you were thinking. A lot of it is…” Phil shifted. “It’s scary. I don’t like to think about what my life would have been like, without you.” 

“But you don’t ever have to worry about that now,” Dan said, resolute and direct. He ducked his head to catch Phil’s eyes. It seemed they were taking turns with avoidance. 

“Still doesn’t stop me thinking about it,” Phil said simply. “It’s not so easy as asking if I’m mad. I’m not mad exactly, I’m...trying to understand. How I could know that you felt that way, back then, but not know that it had already almost happened. That you felt you could tell me even when we were kids that there were times you thought about doing it without ever having told me you’d already tried once.” 

Dan leaned forward and put his forehead on Phil’s shoulder. “I know.” 

“Ten years Dan. I...I just don’t get how it didn’t come out anyway at some point?” 

“Well,” Dan said. He nibbled at his lip before reminding himself to stop. “I suppose it was like anything else I wasn’t ready for. Repressing it? It wasn’t ever about keeping it from you. It was—well okay maybe at some point it was. I worried it would be too much. That one time you asked me, if I felt like that before I started therapy, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. You were so freaked out and I was such a mess.”

“I wish you’d given me more credit,” Phil said. 

“It’s about more than that. It always was. You have to understand, Phil...I don’t like to think about it. I never have. I pushed it away. I pushed it somewhere really deep because it really hurt to think about it. To remember that there was a time I felt so awful I went there. It’s hard to even see myself as a person who did that. There were years when I never even thought about it, like, at all.”

“And the ones when you did?” Phil asked. 

“I pushed it right back down? I know it’s hard to understand—I don’t even know that _I_ understand. But I...I think of who I am and I think about this life we have and I didn’t want it to touch that. I never wanted to be that person again.” 

“Dan,” Phil said helplessly. Dan lifted his head and looked at Phil, then closed his eyes into Phil’s kiss. 

“Should I take it out, the part with the voices?” 

“No,” Phil said. “Absolutely not.” 

“Even though people will unlayer them in order to hear what I’m saying?” 

“Especially then. It’s all important.” 

“You’re not mad?” Dan couldn’t help but ask one more time. Even with Phil these days, there were times where Dan felt so raw, so stripped, he found himself reverting to a younger self, one who needed constant reassurance and validation. One whose true north was Phil. One who needed him, perhaps too much, just to get through. 

“I love you,” Phil said, hand on his cheek and eyes resolute on Dan’s. “I have complicated feelings about something you can’t even explain properly—which is okay!” He spoke over Dan when Dan tried to interrupt. “I’m not mad. I just need time.” 

“And space?” Dan asked, really wanting the answer to be no. 

“No, you numpty!” Phil poked Dan in the thigh and made a face to make Dan laugh. “The opposite. Surgical attachment.”

“Ew! _Phi-il_! That would be so gross.” 

“You’re so gross,” Phil said, pulling Dan into a kiss. 

“Okay,” Dan broke away to say. “This is great, but I do need dinner.” 

“’Kay. So what’s for dinner?” 

“I don’t know!” 

“Dan, you’re saying you left me to slave over your video and there’s no food at the end of this tunnel?”

“Well, I didn’t know it would take you hours; I didn’t think to plan,” Dan cried out, then shrieked with laughter as Phil’s poking became tickling, which soon enough became a series of loud thumps and matching groans when they fell off the sofa. 

“Indian,” Phil said between laughter. He was rubbing his elbow and squirming to get out from under Dan, whose legs were all tangled with his. “I demand Indian.” 

“That,” Dan said, kissing the tip of Phil’s nose, “I can do.”

* * *

Phil knew how important it was to Dan to post the video during pride month. He had a good idea it would be best for both of them to get it up sooner than later so it wasn’t hanging over them. Dan had circles under his eyes and had developed a tendency to stop whatever he was doing to catch his breath, rubbing a hand over his chest absently. 

“I’ll look at it again in the morning,” Phil promised. Dan hummed, the rumble of it vibrating against Phil’s chest. They didn’t always go to bed like this, Dan a noodly koala glomped around him, but Phil wasn’t going to complain because he knew that this was something Dan needed. They both enjoyed a good cuddle from time to time, but also space. Space was nice. All of Phil’s emotions were churning under the surface, too close to spilling over and onto Dan again. But Dan needed to stay focused on himself right now. Phil was as terrified as Dan, thinking of what came next. When it came to their fears, Phil knew the _whats_ and the _whys_ differed. Phil wasn’t as worried about coming out because so many people in their lives already knew. They both knew that Phil was essentially coming out to the fans with Dan, even if he wasn’t posting his own video for a few weeks after Dan’s. 

For years Dan agonized over if he should come out. In the early years he’d struggled with even thinking about his sexuality, instead choosing to seek refuge in Phil. “What does it matter what it’s called, when all I really want at the end of the day is you?” he’d say. 

What would come, for Dan, the day after he posted the video? What was the next emotional step for him? A little over a year ago it felt like they were both holding Dan together; nightly Phil had wondered if Dan could go on tour again, how close to a true breakdown Dan was. Phil had been scared for Dan so many times. And up until these last months, he’d really trusted that ultimately, Dan would be fine. 

Despite so many reassurances, from the moment Dan shared the script for the video with Phil, he couldn't help but fixate on what could have been. 

Dan was speaking, breath warm and long arms against Phil’s bare skin. His hair tickled Phil’s chin and he was heavy, trusting Phil’s body to take the weight of his own. Phil had been scrolling on his phone one-handed, the other wrapped loosely around Dan’s shoulders. He dropped the phone on the bed. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Phil, I swear you don’t listen to half of what I say,” Dan complained. 

“If I did I rather think my brain’d leak out my ears. I can’t give you a rapt audience for all of your random conspiracy rants; we’d never get a thing done,” Phil said, pushing Dan’s hand away when he pinched Phil’s side. “Oi! None of that.” 

He scooted out from under Dan, rolling over him. Trusting Dan with the weight of his body too. Years passed between them meant that he knew Dan could take his weight. It had been so long since they were unpracticed with what their bodies could and couldn’t do. 

Not that they didn’t spice things up. Phil did love trying new things. 

“I’ll not tell you now, rat,” Dan said. He was breathless and pink cheeked. Phil kissed his spot, right where he went bright red. Dan hummed. He smelled sweaty, this morning’s shower long forgotten. He’d run down to the shops earlier; it had been a surprisingly warm day and he’d come back slightly damp and out of breath, making the excuse that he’d walked fast, trying to work out some nervous energy. 

“Dan,” Phil said suddenly. “You’re beautiful.” Phil sounded surprised, even to himself, as if he were caught off guard by the observation. The sentiment wasn’t new, but hit him suddenly, a punch of love and affection and a deep, deep rush of thankfulness. 

“Shut up,” Dan whined, covering his face with his hand, pushing Phil away. 

“Nope,” Phil said, smiling wide, and climbed onto him properly. “Can’t. Lost the filter last week.” 

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Dan said, tilting his chin to accept Phil’s kisses. He shuddered hard when Phil’s lips brushed his neck, so Phil detoured to avoid that. Instead he sucked at the small, shallow bowl between his clavicles. 

“Yup,” Phil agreed cheerfully, scraping a nail over Dan’s nipple. Dan’s hips lifted, an automatic response to practiced invitation. Sex like this was easy, an instinct. Often, it was easier for Phil to talk to Dan with his body than with words. And that was okay. It was a nice fantasy, to think that by now Dan might know it all, the entire language of touch Phil had to offer. Ten years wasn’t as long as people thought—not in the face of all the decades Phil hoped they might have—and Phil rather thought it would get boring, if they knew everything about each other by now. There were always new things to learn and try.

“You all right?” Dan asked, fingers in Phil’s hair, words barely a breath. 

Phil paused, lips against Dan’s ribs, fingers squeezing the soft flesh around Dan’s hips. Was he? 

“If I said no, not really, would you let me keep going?” 

Dan smiled and poked Phil’s nose. “Never stopped you from fucking me before, has it?” 

“Well, I mean, someti—” 

“Shut up and get on with it, you buffoon,” Dan said. He shifted to cradle Phil between his legs, poking his calf with his toes. “Tell me what you need.” 

“First, I need you to shut up,” Phil responded immediately. 

“It’s not a _make me_ sort of night, is it?” Dan asked. Despite the levity, under it was a sincere attempt to give Phil what he needed. 

“No,” Phil said. He hauled himself back up so he could kiss Dan fleetingly. He couldn’t explain, really, that he didn’t want to have Dan give him what he needed. He wanted—he needed—to give _himself_ something. Reassurance. He wanted the heft of Dan’s long bones and the give of his soft belly and the weight of his cock, his sweat and the way he grunted right before he was about to come. Phil wanted Dan’s nails dug into his shoulder blades or arms or ass. Dan’s pliancy, his post-sex relaxation, his openess to any and all kinds off affection, to words he was sometimes guarded against. That Phil was sometimes guarded against. 

He knew dozens of ways to tell Dan he loved him. To show him. To press love into Phil’s body and heart and mind. 

Phil was so greedy for Dan, greedy for that _them_ they’d protected from the world. 

“When this is all over, everyone will know you’re mine,” Phil said. He’d knelt between Dan’s thighs, fingers running along the crease of Dan’s groin. 

“Well, yeah. Mostly,” Dan said, hardly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Phil did this sometimes, finding things to talk about that he couldn’t voice or hadn’t worked out in his head, when they fucked. 

They weren’t going to explicitly acknowledge their relationship beyond Dan’s video. But they were done denying it. Phil didn’t want to talk about it. He’d grown to love the bubble they protected their relationship with. People would call it a glass closet, but it wasn’t. Not really. Phil knew what a glass closet was, too intimately, and so did Dan. They’d definitely been living in one over the course of their careers. 

But their _them_ wasn’t a glass closet. He’d tried once, to articulate this once to Dan, but had only made a mess of the words. Their intimacy and their story was _theirs_. Phil knew their love story was special, that it would be special to other people. But it was also ordinary. They were just two people making a life together. Who fought over laundry and food. Who disagreed over spending and what TV show to watch. Who could speak through a look, who didn’t always have to talk to entertain each other. Who sometimes had to make deliberate time with each other to reconnect. Who chose not to go to bed angry, who were so stubborn this sometimes meant staying up long, long into the night.

What did it mean, to want both an extraordinary and ordinary life? What did it say about Phil, that he wanted it all? 

Splayed before him on the bed was the epicenter of Phil’s life. Lovely and long and silly and frustrating. And here. 

_Here_. 

Phil put his head on Dan’s belly and breathed him in. 

“What’s that?” Dan asked, and only then did Phil realize he had been whispering _thank you, thank you, thank you_ out loud, rather than thinking it. 

“Nothing,” Phil said. He slid his fingers under the hems of Dan’s pants. He had a sudden memory of Dan like this, eager at eighteen and full of false confidence. More slender, more awkward in a still growing body, scared of what he wanted, but desperate to put himself into Phil’s hands. Dan as a boy who thought Phil had the answers. Phil remembered wanting to be that man for Dan, remembered trying so hard to live up to the ideal. Being terrified that one day Dan would realize Phil’s confidence was just as put-on as Dan’s. 

There was no shame between them now. No false confidence. Very little fear of faltering. Trust that even when they did falter, it would be okay in the end. 

“Mate, you just gonna stare at me all night?” Dan said. 

“You’re so impatient,” Phil said through a laugh, pinching the sweet, pale give of Dan’s inner thigh. 

“Oi, Lester. We all know who the demanding one here is.” 

“Please. You’re the bossiest bottom I know.” Phil leaned up to bite Dan’s lip.

“That’s because you’re not looking in the mirror when I fuck you. Besides, how many bottoms do you know?” Dan draped his arms around Phil’s shoulders, satisfied and smug. 

“Fuck,” Phil said. “You win. You’re still bossy though.” 

“And you’re stalling. What’s going on?” Dan’s face was so dear to Phil, but right then, Phil wanted nothing more than to hide from the perceptive look in his eyes. 

“Can...can we not talk for a bit? Can I just—” Dan cut him off with a kiss and a nod. Phil wondered briefly if there was anyone in the world that would understand how Phil needed to talk without words, who would be so easy and accepting of it. 

Later, with Dan still shaking how he did sometimes after sex, wrapped up in each other, Phil spoke into the dark. 

“If I asked you to make me a promise, would you?” 

“Always,” Dan said, sleepy and soft. 

“Don’t say always until you know,” Phil chided. 

“Shut it. You’d never ask me for too much, not if it’s a promise.” 

“Dan. Is it really that easy, having _that_ much faith in me?” Phil tugged on Dan’s shoulder until he rolled over. They’d turned off the lights and although his eyes were adjusted to the dark, Dan’s face was a faint outline. 

“Nothing’s easy. I mean...it is. But it’s not like, I dunno. Not stupid _blind_ trust. I trust you because I know you. We’ve earned it.” 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

“You just fucked higher function out of me,” Dan said with a shaky laugh. Phil smiled. 

“Don’t be mad, okay? It’s silly, a little.” 

“Okay.” Dan found Phil’s hand in the dark. 

“Stay with me.” 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan said, voice a little broken. “Haven’t we promised each other that all along?”

“Maybe I just need to hear it,” Phil said. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

“No. Don’t. Let’s not do this again. You needn’t apologize. I…” 

“What time is it?” Dan asked, sudden-like. Phil reached behind him to check his phone. 

“Just past midnight.” 

“How many nights have we been together, do you think?” Dan asked. 

“Dan, you’re not the only one with post-sex mush brain. I’m not doing maths.” 

“How many midnights do you want?” Dan asked. Phil frowned. 

“I don’t—”

“Because you get all of them. We must’ve had thousands of midnights, or more. Maybe not all together in the same place, but still. I knew, years ago, that they’d be yours. You did too.” 

Phil closed his eyes and met Dan’s forehead with his. “I do. I have.” 

“Yes,” Dan said, urgent now, fingers lacing tight with Phil’s. “I’ll stay with you.” Their knees bumped under tangled covers. Dan smelled of sex and of himself, of those thousands of days and nights together. 

“All of them then,” Phil promised and felt his chest loosen a bit. Like the giving of the promise was the same as the asking. Because with Dan, it was. It always had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, your comments mean the WORLD to me. This fic was such a labor of love, knowing it's touched other people has been so affirming. Thank you to every one of you that has left me a comment along the way. I can't believe this is all over! I really want to give love and hugs to all of the people who helped me along the way--you all have my heart. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! It's not complete yet: for now you have the chapter title songs, and I'll be adding other songs that were important to me in inspiration/mood as I wrote this. Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like! 
> 
> Title of this chapter comes from "Our Story" by Mako.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging on [tumblr](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/619854038286155776)! I've made a master post so people can chose to read chapters individually if they like.
> 
> I also have a playlist for this fic!! It's not complete yet: for now you have the chapter title songs, and I'll be adding other songs that were important to me in inspiration/mood as I wrote this. Check it out on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VoJCR4Bm5SR414Yg6kaRa?si=XV8aS-2fQdy4oBIO5WG7ag) if you like!


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